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HA^VTHORNE CLASSICS 



SHAKESPEAREAN COMEDIES 




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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



THE HAWTHORNE CLASSICS 



SHAKESPEAREAN COMEDIES 



EDITED BY 
EDWAKD EVERETT HALE, Jr , Ph.D. 

PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC AND LOGIC IN UNION COLLEGE 




GLOBE SCHOOL BOOK COMPANY 

NEW YORK AND CHICAGO 



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Copyright, 1902, by 
Globe School Book Company. 



MANHATTAN PRESS 

474 ^VEST BROADWAY 

NEW YORK 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Introduction v 

A Midsummer-Night's Dream .... 1 

As You Like It 93 

The Tempest 205 



ui 



INTKODUCTION 

The three plays in this volume are representa- 
tive Shakespearean comedies. They are distinctly 
his; no one else could have written them. Fur- 
ther, they give us quite fully the quality of comedy 
that we tliink of instinctively as Shakespeare's. 

They do not represent every side of Shake- 
speare's genius as it is displayed in comedy. 
"The Comedy of Errors," for instance, is charac- 
terized by an element of broad farce in actioii, 
which we do not find in these plays. " Measure 
for Measure " has a bitter, satiric quality which 
we do not find at all. But these qualities are 
not particularly Shakespearean; Shakespeare had 
powers in those directions, but they were not his 
greatest powers. Whereas the curious mingling 
of imagination and fancy into romantic and ideal 
forms, molded with wit and humor, keen insight 
and ripe wisdom, is something we do not find in 
other dramatists, either of Shakespeare's time or 
of any other. The older comedy of the Greeks 
was broad burlesque, used for the purposes of 
political and social satire. The later comedy, 
which we know chiefly by the comedy of the 



V i INTB on UCTION 

Romans, was a picture of manners with a strong 
satirical flavoring. It is this latter form of comedy 
which has set the fashion to the world. Moliere 
gives us the quality in its purest form in modern 
literature, but our own literature is by no means 
lacking in fine examples. Not to mention the 
Restoration comedy, which has fallen into ob- 
livion, we may find in the plays of Sheridan and 
Goldsmith the same general quality of fine and 
keen social satire and quick and sure pictures of 
manners. Such comedies any one may see upon 
the stage to-day in any country of Europe or here 
at home. It is true that the popular taste at the 
present moment prefers more farcical comedy or 
more emotional melodrama, but examples of pure 
comedy are not wanting among the plays Avhich 
have been most successful on our contemporary 
stage. 

Shakespeare's comedy is not, however, the com- 
edy of manners. Read any of the plays in this 
book and then read Sheridan's " Rivals " and you 
will perceive an immense difference. And this is 
not because Sheridan wrote about the men and 
women, the society of his own day ; for although 
Shakespeare did not always write about the society 
of his own day, he generally wrote as if he did. 
His characters, whether Greek, French, or Italian, 
all speak just as he would make an Englishman 
speak, save for minor differences. Shakespeare's 
people are of his own time as much as they were 



INTR OB UCTION Vll 

of any time : we must remember that they ap- 
peared before the audience in just such costumes 
as the audience itself wore,i just as they spoke of 
thing's with winch the audience was familiar, like 
hawthorn buds and primroses (I., i., 185, 215), 
clocks (V., i., 368) and casements (III., i., 58 J, 
dukes (I., i., 20) and heraldry (III., ii., 211). 

But though Shakespeare does not shun the men- 
tion of what were to him everyday things, he does 
not in the least have an everyday atmosphere. 
The characteristic which makes his comedies as 
a whole different from the comedies of the present 
day is their ideal atmosphere. Not present in 
every one of the comedies, it is clearly noticeable 
in those in our volume. The fairy fantasy of a 
midsummer night, the careless fleeting of life 
in the Forest of Arden, the surprising adven- 
tures upon the enchanted isle, — these are ideal 
and fanciful circumstances, and are enough to 
give a distinctly idealistic quality. It gives in- 
deed a distinct character to the plays, in which 
we readily surrender ourselves to the desires of 
the dramatist. 

What are those desires ? What is the purpose 
of comedy ? 

The tragedies of Shakespeare depict, as a rule, 
some strong and powerful man, wliose strength 

1 In " A Midsummer-Night's Dream " we read of coats (II., 11., 5) , 
sleeves, and hats (III., ii., 30) and ribhoned pumps (IV., ii., 34) just 
as in "Julius Caesar " we read of hats, cloaks, and doublets. 



Vlll INTBODUCTION 

and power is yet incomplete, and indeed flawed 
in such a manner that he cannot control success- 
fully the facts of life, as weaker men sometimes 
can by knowing what those facts are and what is 
due to them. Thus Romeo, Brutus, Hamlet, are 
each strong in the power to love, to do right, to 
tliink. But neither is perfect. Romeo is hasty, 
Brutus overconfident, Hamlet a dreamer. Such 
men cannot succeed. Yet we love them, and 
their failure is a tragedy, for we do not clearly 
understand why, in this world, so much good 
should go to wreck, why it sliould not prevail, or 
rather why so much strength should be mingled 
with weakness. Such are Shakespeare's trage- 
dies. His histories are simpler in spirit. The 
history or chronicle play was a favorite dramatic 
form of the time. Shakespeare was interested in 
it. A phase of national life strikes him, and he 
puts together characteristic scenes and passages, 
and we have a historical play which presents to 
us a conception of the stirring and striking days 
of old, of John, of Henry IV., of Henry VIII. 

Now what is the spirit of his comedies ? As a 
rule some two or three characters, who arouse our 
sympathy, become involved in some difficulty and 
then are extricated from their troubles, after a 
sobering experience which leaves them wiser and 
truer men and w^omen than before. Both of these 
matters are important. Shakespeare was not a 
moralist, but lie liad a large, sane, liealthy idea of 



INTRODUCTION ix 

the way things go in this world and of how far 
people generally ally themselves to the side of 
facts, and he commonly presents to us the people 
who kick against the pricks as getting the worst 
of it and mending their ways, or, if they have 
kicked too hard and too long, coming to grief. 
He could hardly present any phase of life without 
giving some sort of idea of this kind, for he held 
it so firmly that it came out in all manner of ways. 
It was not his especial purpose to present it, how- 
ever, but merely a natural way he had of express- 
ing himself. He was probably more interested in 
the amusement of raveling and unraveling the 
plot. 

Still, in each play we do have the hasty, the 
flighty, the wrong-headed, put through various 
trials, to come, only at the end, to a happy condi- 
tion. In " A Midsummer-Night's Dream " the 
hot-headed young lovers, all bent on reaching 
swiftly the end of passion, are led through a maze 
of difficulty. It is true that they are led about 
by fancy, but that is not significant in itself ; 
Shakespeare wanted to show the course of hot- 
headed love. In " Romeo and Juliet " he used 
the everyday means of his story and wrought out 
a tragedy. In " A Midsummer-Night's Dream " 
he used the fanciful conception which is at the 
bottom of the play and made a romantic comedy. 
In " As You Like It " we have a far less definite 
conception ; less systematically worked out than 



X INTRODUCTION 

is the case with the earlier comedy, less implicit 
in the whole thought than in the later. The play 
is a pleasant extravaganza on popular romance. 
Every one goes a-romancing in the forest, for one 
reason or another, but every one comes home 
again (except Jaques) as soon as he gets a chance. 
In " The Tempest " Ave see even more clearly an 
idea, in this case that of the necessity of service. 
Antonio strives to raise himself to an unmerited 
mastership, but Ferdinand is willing to undergo 
unmerited servitude. Caliban, grumbling and 
growling over his work, remains a slave, while 
Ariel, who renders glad and willing service, is 
freed. Throughout each play we have the sane, 
wise standpoint of the man who knows the world. 
The particular interests are often theatrical, but 
Shakespeare did even technical things in such a 
way as to satisfy his feeling of what ought to be. 
As he grew older, it is probable that this moral 
turn grew stronger. And this brings up another 
point of interest in the study of Shakespeare 
which is well illustrated by these plays ; namely, 
the growth and development of his genius. These 
three plays were written, one early in his career, 
one at about the middle, and one at the end. It 
is hardly possible to read " A Midsummer-Night's 
Dream " and " The Tempest " and not see that 
one is the work of a young man and the other of 
a man much more mature. Scholars have pointed 
out the various particular ways by which Shake- 



INTEODUCTION XI 

speare's earlier style differed from his later. It 
may not be easy for every one to appreciate the 
minor points of verse and expression which are 
thought to be characteristic of earlier and later 
work, but we can all appreciate the atmosphere of 
fancy in the earlier play and of thought in the 
later one. " As You Like It " stands between ; 
it is one of that delightful group of comedies 
written when Shakespeare's youthful powers of 
imagination and fancy were beginning to be en- 
riched by the wisdom and sagacity wliich came 
to him from experience of life.^ The change is 
marked by differences in style not very hard to 
note in a general way : the earlier plays, for in- 
stance, have much more rhyme than the later, 
while the later have a much more developed kind 
of blank verse than the earlier. Nor is the change 
always for the best, so far as style is concerned. 
In the later plays the idea is so much more impor- 
tant than the expression that we often find ob- 
scurity or lack of connection, as in the passages 
cited in the note on p. 214. And while this 
dift'erence in treatment is noticeable, the student 
should notice also the increase in power of char- 
acter. The characters in " A Midsummer-Niofht's 
Dream" are but sketches after all; how faint they 



1 The student will find in Dowden's " Shakespere Primer" a 
most interesting statement of the development of Shakespeare's 
mind and disposition, and a treatment more at large in the same 
author's " Shakespere: His Mind and Art." 



xii IN TB OD UCTION 

are compared with the highly finished pictures of 
"As You Like It." And even "x\s You Like It" 
is less studied than " The Tempest," in which 
every figure, even to the minor ones, represents 
quite clearly some shade of idea or character. 

Suggestions for Study 

The student of Shakespeare, and indeed the 
teacher too, is often puzzled, in trying to settle 
on a line of Shakespearean study, by the great 
number of matters which he finds in the editions 
even of single plays. Undoubtedly the number 
of things that one may stud}^ under the name of 
" studying Shakespeare " is very great ; and many 
of them do really give a richer and fuller, if not a 
keener, appreciation of Shakespeare's plays. 

Some of them, however, are matters more par- 
ticularly for the special Shakespearean scholar. 
Such, for instance, are those questions connected 
with the date of any play, and with the sources of 
its plot, and with its text. The date of a play is 
a matter of interest, for, as has been said, Shake- 
speare's early work (like " A Midsummer-Night's 
Dream ") is different in many respects from his 
later work (like " The Tempest "), and we cer- 
tainly w^ant to know which is early and which 
late, so as rightly to appreciate each. The sources 
of a play are important too, for only by knowing 
wliat things Shakespeare took from others can we 



INTRODUCTION Xlii 

really get at just that which he created himself. 
Thus the main lines of the story of " As You 
Like It " are to be found in a novel called " Rosa- 
lind " b}^ Thomas Lodge, but the banished Duke, 
Jaques, Touchstone, the pastoral love-making, were 
all added by Shakespeare. The text is a matter 
of importance, for it may sometimes be an incor- 
rect text that gives us such passages, as have just 
been mentioned, in the note on p. 214. But these 
are, on the whole, matters for the specialist. The 
date of any play is often to be determined only 
by nice weighing of literary and historical evi- 
dence ; the sources are almost always to be sought 
in literature quite unfamiliar to most people ; the 
principles of text criticism are not very definitely 
settled, and can, as a rule, be applied only on a 
basis of wide reading. So those of us who cannot 
give careful and close study to Shakespeare, but 
who wish chiefly to enjoy his plays as thoroughly 
as possible, will do well to leave such matters to 
the scholars and to use intelligently the results 
which they have attained, often by severe labor. 
It is not very hard to get at such results ; almost 
any fully annotated edition will give us the main 
facts. 

There are also a number of matters of interest 
in the study of any separate play. Thus if we 
had some particular play in hand, we should want 
to get a good idea of the particular development 
of the dramatic action, the plot as it is called. 



XIV INTB OB UCTION 

We should be interested in seeing how the story 
develops, how different lines of action are brought 
together, how matters are carried to a crisis and 
then to a right ending. Or we might study the 
particular characters, ask ourselves what sort of 
men and women tliey were, and how their char- 
acteristics were brought out and expressed, con- 
trast them with each other, tr}^ and see what 
special significance each had in Shakespeare's 
mind. Or there are always particular matters 
connected with particular plays : Avith " A Mid- 
summer-Night's Dream " the fairy world is some- 
thing we may study in some little detail, trying to 
get a good conception of Shakespeare's notion of 
such affairs in other plays as well as this ; with 
" The Tempest " there are a number of " interpre- 
tations," as they are called, or statements of the 
idea or meaning of the j)l^y- These matters come 
rather with a study of separate plays, and do not 
belong so naturally to the reading of several plays 
together. 

But there are more general matters, matters not 
of special scholarship, but such as anybody will 
want to notice, which are connected not more 
w^ith one play than with many. Some of them 
have been mentioned earlier in the introduction, 
for instance, the general spirit of Shakespearean 
comedy ; that is a thing that we want to appre- 
ciate to the full ; we want to get it as it is differ- 
ently present in all the great comedies, whether 



INTBODUCTION XV 

written in Shakespeare's early life or later toward 
the end. 

Some of these matters are rather technical. 
Many think it a pity to trouble students with what 
are called technical matters, such as questions of 
language or of meter. It certainly is a pity to 
trouble students at all when they are reading 
Shakespeare. But if we are going to study 
Shakespeare instead of merely reading him freely, 
we must do some things that at first will be 
troublesome, at least to those who dislike study. 
The point of importance is to be able to study 
such matters in an untroubled way, to such a 
degree as is necessary, without being carried so 
far as to be absorbed in them to the loss of enjoy- 
ment of the plays themselves. 

Tlie language of Shakespeare is such as in the 
main can be readily understood by any one. But 
everybody who looks at Shakespeare, even for the 
first time, will recognize that Shakespeare's lan- 
guage is not exactly the language of every day. 
It is true that Shakespeare is so constantly read 
by English-speaking people that his influence upon 
the language has been very great, so that some- 
times he does not seem nearly as old as would 
Ben Jonson, for instance, who lived and wrote in 
Shakespeare's lifetime and after his death. Still, 
in spite of a general familiarity, Shakespearean 
language has some things about it that we must 
at least notice in order to understand them. First 



XVI INTRODUCTION 

to be noticed is the fact that the words that he 
uses have in many cases changed in pronuncia- 
tion or meaning in the course of three centuries. 
When we begin to study Shakespeare we should 
look to these things and they will soon become 
familiar enough for us to read with enjoyment. 
Thus the word revenue (M. N. D., I., i., 6 and 158) 
had in Shakespeare's day been not very long bor- 
rowed from the French, and its pronunciation 
was not definitely settled. Sometimes it was pro- 
nounced with an accent, more like the French, on 
the second syllable, sometimes as we pronounce it 
to-day. Other such cases will be found : for in- 
stance, contract in Temp. IV., i., 84 and II., i., 
153. And although it is not common to find 
different pronunciations in the same play, yet pro- 
nunciations different from the usage of to-day are 
not infrequent : perse' ver^ M. N. D., III., ii., 237 ; 
exiled A. Y. L. I., II., i., 1 ; contents^ A. Y. L. I., 
IV., iii., 8 ; aspect', A. Y. L. L, IV., iii., 53. Yet 
in other plays often Shakespeare uses the pronun- 
ciation of to-day, showing a very variable usage. 

More important, however, than the pronuncia- 
tion is the meaning of words. Here there is a 
fine chance for too much study ; let us surely 
avoid that; one can do so much better things 
with Shakespeare than use him as a master for 
Elizabethan grammar. But there are some things 
about which one must keep an open eye. Obso- 
lete or archaic words do not off'er much difficulty; 



INTRODUCTION xvil 

they catch our attention, for they look strange, 
and perhaps we cannot guess at their meaning. 
Thus kibe, Temp., II., i., 267, is an obsolete word. 
We do not hear it to-day ; very likely we do not 
know what it means. We should of course find 
out, but no special directions need be given for 
finding out. The best thing is to remember some 
other passage in which the word occurs, e.g. 
Hamlet, V., i., 153. If one does not remember 
another use, there is Bartlett's " Concordance," or 
Clarke's, which give us all the phrases in which 
almost any word is used. Here we can easily 
find another passage, if there be one, and by com- 
paring come to an idea of the meaning. If this 
is not sufficient, one can use Schmidt's " Shake- 
speare Lexicon," where all the general and par- 
ticular Shakespearean uses will be found. And 
if neither of these authorities are at hand, any 
good dictionary will as a rule give us the correct 
meaning, and often witli quotation of the very 
passage we are considering. There are a num- 
ber of such words in every Shakespearean play. 
The annotated editions, as a rule, give their mean- 
ings. But it is better to look up the meanings 
for oneself ; it seems to be the case that one holds 
that which one gets with a little trouble better 
than the things that are thrust into one's way. 

Rather more difficult as an object of study are 
those words which are still used to-day, but in a 
sense different from that of the play. Thus when 



xviu INTRODUCTION 

Prospero tells Ariel (Temp., IV., i., 193) to hang 
the glistering apparel " upon the line," I fear that 
most of us will at first think of some sort of 
clothes-line. But we see in a minute that this 
was probably not Shakespeare's idea (it would 
have been incongruously prosaic certainly), for in 
v., i., 10, Ariel speaks of ''the line-grove that 
weather-fends your cell," and we see that it was no 
clothes-line but a linden tree on which the clothes 
were hanging. If you look up hrave^ Temp., I., 
ii., 6, 206 ; control^ I., ii., 434 ; corollary, IV., i., 57, 
you will see that they meant something rather 
different from what they bring to mind to-day. 
So in "A Midsummer-Night's Dvedaw'' poor fancy's 
followers, I., i., 155, does not to-day carry its 
meaning on its face. But look at the note on 
that line and on II., i., 156. Other examples will 
be found in abridgment^ V., i., 39; admirable, V., 
i., 27; cheer. III., ii., 96; crab, II., i., 48. So also 
taxation, A. Y. L. I., I., ii., 88; humorous, I., ii., 274 
and humor. III., ii., 424. The words are common 
enough, but their meaning in Shakespeare is dif- 
ferent from that which we are used to. 

We should try to understand Shakespeare's 
words as he understood them himself. The task 
is often difficult, but when we have tried our 
hand at it, it becomes easier ; we begin to remem- 
ber special usages and meanings and expressions, 
and soon we are able to read with an appreciation 
of these differences from current usage, but with- 



INTRODUCTION XIX 

out noticing them consciously, tis one gets to read 
a foreign language without translating it. 

Besides these matters which concern individual 
words there are others which concern syntax. 
These are of something the same kind as the cases 
which have just been mentioned. Some construc- 
tions look strange to us, — those we should notice 
and look up in Abbott's ''Shakespearean Gram- 
mar" or Franz's "Shakespere Grammatik." Much 
less frequent than the words which remain in the 
language with changed meaning are construc- 
tions still familiar, of which the significance has 
changed. Thus in Oberon's speech (M. N. D., 
II., i., 149-152) : — 

" A certain aim he took 
At a fair vestal throned by the west, 
And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow, 
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts," 

the construction in italics is archaic now except in 
another sense. Here it means "as if it were about 
to." Still although such cases are not very com- 
mon, we must be ready to note them when they 
come. 

These considerations are purely linguistic ; there 
are others which are literary. We want to be- 
come familiar with the characteristics of Shake- 
speare's language. And first we must bear in 
mind that all the dramatists of Elizabeth's day 
used language habitually in ways not very cus- 



XX INTRODUCTION 

■ .' 
tomary with us. For one thing they were far 

more apt than writers of our own day to be elabo- 
rate and elevated in style ; oratorical we might 
say, or sometimes even bombastic. Such language 
was more or less demanded in a theater which had 
very little of the illusion and spectacular character 
that we are used to. The people came to listen 
as well as to see, and they rather expected high- 
sounding language. Shakespeare ridicules the 
extravagances in M. N. D., I., ii., 33-40, and else- 
where. But he himself is often lofty and in 
Ercles' veins, more in tragedy it is true than in 
comedy. In comedy, however, he is often elabo- 
rate. Note the poetical passages in M. N. D., II., 
i., 81-117; II., i., 241-251; the moralizings in 
A. Y. L. I., II., 1-18; II., iii., 56-68; Prospero's 
speeches in Temp., lY., i., 146-163; Y., i., 33-57, 
as well as the narratives M. N. D., II., i., 147-166; 
A. Y. L. I., lY., iii., 99-121. All this is pitched 
in a key, as Ave may say, more elevated than prose 
or even common blank verse ; we should notice it 
and accustom ourselves to its tone and appreciate 
its richness of poetry and rhetoric. Another habit 
of speech more common in Shakespeare's day than 
ours was that of figured speech as we may call it, 
— the use of figures more often than is now usual 
and the jDushing of them to a greater extent. 
This is more common in Shakespeare's early plays 
than in the later ones ; look at the very beginning 
of " A Midsummer-Night's Dream " and note the 



INTRODUCTION xxi 

frequent figure. Hardly a speech but has a simile 
or a more or less elaborate metaphor. If we want 
to see the way such matters crept into conversa- 
tion, we may turn to the talk of Jaques and Or- 
lando (A. Y. L. I., III., ii., 290-310), where rather 
ordinary repartee develops into wit of a figured 
character. 

These things we want to appreciate, and we 
must further note the pieces of prose and the 
snatches of song. The songs bubble out vari- 
ously according to the mood ; the prose passages 
generally come in as a mark of one or another 
character. Sometimes it is used for humorous or 
common characters, like Bottom or the handi- 
craftsmen. Touchstone and the country people, 
Stephano and Trinculo ; often for passages that 
are not especially dramatic in character, but rather 
explanatory, as the first scene in "As You Like It" 
or of "The Tempest." In the second scene of 
" As You Like It " we have first prose and then 
poetry, though the characters are the same. It 
may be here that Shakespeare felt the passage 
rather more emotional after Orlando and Rosalind 
had seen each other and loved than it had been 
before. 

Such are a few of the more important matters 
in a study of Shakespeare's language with a view 
of understanding and appreciating. A word may 
be added as to the best way of learning and of 
teaching. 



XXU INTRODUCTION 

Tlie best means for both purposes is comparison. 
We. have here three plays, a good body of poetry. 
In tliem tiiere Avill be not a few words used once 
only, rare constructions, special usages. But these 
will be exceptional ; the general rule will be that 
what you find once you will find again. Obsolete 
words and words in old meanings, archaic con- 
structions, uses of song or of prose, we shall gen- 
erally find them more than once if we keep our 
eyes open. And when found one will explain the 
other in a manner far better than the dictionary 
or the grammar alone can supply. Things learned 
in this Avay are learned by ourselves and are not 
readily forgotten. They are learned with interest 
and retained the longer. One ought, therefore, 
to try constantly to find not only parallel uses and 
constructions, but also similar modes of speech and 
expression. When we have begun to read in this 
manner we have ceased merely to appropriate the 
knowledge of some one else, and have begun to 
study Shakespeare for ourselves. 



A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 



Theseus, Duke of Athens. 
Egeus, father to Hermia. 
Lysander, 



T^ r ill love with Hermia. 

Demetrius, J 

Philostrate, Master of the Revels to Theseus. 

Quince, a carpeiiter. 

Snug, a joiner. 

Bottom, a weaver. 

Flute, a bellows-mender. 

Snout, a tinker. 

Starveling, a tailor. 

HippoLYTA, Queen of the Amazons, betrothed to Theseus. 
Hermia, daughter to Egeus, in love with Lysander. 
Helena, in love with Demetrius. 

Oberon, King of the fairies. 

TiTANL\, Queen of the fairies. 

Puck, or Robin Goodfellow. 

Peaseblossom, ^ 

Cobweb 

Moth, 

Mustardseed, J 



> fairies. 



Other fairies attending their King and Queen. Attendants on 
Theseus and Hippolyta. 

Place : Athens and a loood near it. 



A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM 

ACT I 

Scene 1. 1 Athens. The jjalace of Tu^si^us 

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostkate, 
Attendants 



The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour 
Draws on apace ; four happy days bring in 
Another moon : but, O, methinks, how slow 
This old moon wanes ! she lingers my desires, 
Like to a step-dame or a dowager 
Long withering out a young man's revenue. 

Hip. Four days will quickly steep themselves 
in night ; 
Four nights will quickly dream away the time ; 
And then the moon, like to a silver bow 
[0 New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night 
Of our solemnities. 

The. Go, Philostrate, 

Stir up the Athenian youth to merriment ; 

1 The first scene gives a general idea of the subject of the play : 
the wedding of Theseus and Hippolyta is the occasion, the loves of 
Hermia and Lysander, Demetrius and Helena, give the chief action ; 
even the play of the Athenian boors is suggested ; the part about 
the fairies is not hinted at, — that is to be a surprise. 

3 



4 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth : 
Turn mehmcholy forth to funerals ; 
.The pale companion is not for our pomp. 

[Fxit Philostrate. 
Hippolyta,^ I wooed tliee with my sword, 
And won thy love, doing thee injuries ; 
But I will wed thee in another key, 
With pomp, with triumph, and with reveling. 

Enter Egeus, Hermia, Lysander, and Deme- 
trius 

20 Uc^e. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke ! ^ 
The. Thanks, good Egeus : Avhat's the news 

with thee ? 
Ege. Full of vexation come 1, with complaint 
Against my cliild, my daughter Hermia. 
Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord, 
This man hath my consent to marry her. 
Stand forth, Lysander ; and, my gracious duke. 
This man hath bewitched the bosom of my child ; ^ 
Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes 
And interchanged love-tokens with my child : 
30 Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung 

1 Hippolyta was queen of the Amazons, who had been conquered 
in battle, said tradition, by Theseus. 

2 The title '*duke" is of course inappropriate, an anachronism. 
But it was a common title in the Middle Ages even for heroes of 
antiquitj^ and Shakespeare is merely adopting the current term 
in the literature which gave him his idea. So Chaucer in the 
" Knight's Tale," M^iich Shakespeare had doubtless read. 

3 Comi^are the means by which Othello won Desdemona. Othello, 
I., iii., 128-170. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMEE-NIGHr'S DREAM 5 

With feigning voice verses of feigning love, 
And stolen the impression of her fantasy 
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, 
Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messengers 
Of strong prevailment in unhardened youth : 
With cunning hast thoufilclied my daughter's heart, 
Turned her obedience, which is due to me. 
To stubborn harshness : and, my gracious duke, 
Be't so she will not here before your grace 
40 Consent to marry with Demetrius, 
I beg the ancient privilege of Athens, 
As she is mine, 1 may dispose of her : 
Which shall be either to this gentleman 
Or to her death, according to our law 
Immediately provided in that case. 

The. What say you, Hermia? be advised, fair 
maid : 
To you your father should be as a god^ ; 
One that composed your beauties, yea, and one 
To whom you are but as a form in wax 
50 By him imprinted and within his power 
To leave the figure or disfigure it. 
Demetrius is a worthy gentleman. 

Her. So is Lysander. 

TJie. In himself he is ; 

But in this kind, wanting your father's voice, 
The other must be held the worthier. 

Her. I would my father looked but with my eyes. 

The. Rather your eyes must with his judgment 
look. 



6 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

Her. I do entreat your grace to pardon me. 

I know not by what power I am made bold, 
60 Nor how it may concern my modesty, 

In such a presence here to plead my thoughts ; 

But I beseech your grace that I may know 

The w^orst that may befall me in this case, 

If I refuse to wed Demetrius. 

The. Either to die the death or to abjure 

For ever the society of men. 

Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires ; 

Know of your youth, examine well your blood. 

Whether, if j^ou yield not to your father's choice, 
70 You can endure the livery of a nun,^ 

For aye to be in shady cloister mewed, 

To live a barren sister all your life, 

Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. 

Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood. 

To undergo such maiden pilgrimage ; 

But earthlier happy is the rose distilled. 

Than that which withering on the virgin thorn 

Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. 
ffer. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, 
80 Ere I will yield my virgin patent up 

Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke 

My soul consents not to give sovereignt}^ 

1 There were uo uuns iu Athens at this time any more than 
dukes, nor indeed in England in Shakespeare's time. But here, as 
with the title of duke for Theseus, Shakespeare merely has in mind 
the current condition of things for centuries before his day. 
As in Julius Csesar, lie did not aim at any real production of 
antiquity. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMEB-NIGHT' S DREAM 7 

The. Take time to pause ; and by the next new 
moon — 
The sealing'-day betwixt my love and me, 
For everhisting bond of fellowship — 
Upon that day either prepare to die 
For disobedience to your father's will, 
Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would, 
Or on Diana's altar to protest 
90 For aye austerity and single life. 

Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia : and, Lysander, 
yield 
Thy crazed title to my certain right. 

L^s. You have her father's love, Demetrius ; 
Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him. 

Uge. Scornful Lysander ! true, he hath my love, 
And what is mine my love shall render him. 
And she is mine, and all my right of her 
I do estate unto Demetrius. 

Li/s. I am, my lord, as well derived as he, 
too As well possessed ; my love is more than his ; 
My fortunes every way as fairly ranked. 
If not with vantage, as Demetrius' ; 
And, which is more than all these boasts can be, 
I am beloved of beauteous Hermia : 
Why should not I then prosecute my right ? 
Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head. 
Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena, 
And won her soul ; and she, sweet lady, dotes, 
Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, 
no Upon this spotted and inconstant man. 



8 irAWTunuyE classics [acti 

The. 1 must confess that I have heard so mucli, 
And with Demetrius tliought to have spoke thereof ; 
But, being over-full of self-affairs, 
My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come ; 
And come, Egeus ; you shall go with me, 
I have some private schooling for you both. 
For you, fair Hermia, look 3'ou arm yourself 
To fit your fancies to your father's Avill ; 
Or else the law of Athens jdelds you up — 
120 Which by no means we may extenuate — 
To death, or to a vow of single life. 
Come, my Hippolyta : what cheer, my love ? 
Demetrius and Egeus go along : 
I must employ you in some business 
Against our nuptial and confer with you 
Of something nearly that concerns yourselves. 

^(/e. With duty and desire we follow you. 

[Exeunt all hut Lysander and Hermia. 

Lys. How now, my love ! why is your cheek 
so pale ? 
How chance the roses there do fade so fast ? 
130 Hey\ Belike for want of rain, which I could well 
Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes. 

Lys. Ay me ! for aught that I could ever read, 
Could ever hear by tale or history. 
The course of true love never did run smooth ; 
But, either it was different in blood, — 

Her. O cross ! too high to be enthralled to low.^ 

1 For another rapid dialogue like this, see 11. 194-201 of this 
scene. 



Scene I] A MIDSVMMER-NIGHT\^ BBEAM 9 

Lys. Or else misgraffed in respect of years, — 

Her. O spite ! too old to be engaged to young. 

Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of 
friends, — 
140 Her. O hell ! to choose love by another's eyes. 

Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, 
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it. 
Making it momentany as a sound, 
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream ; 
Brief as the lightning in the coUied night. 
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, 
And ere a man hath power to say " Behold ! " 
The jaws of darkness do devour it up : 
So quick bright things come to confusion. 
150 Her. If then true lovers have been ever crossed, 
It stands as an edict in destiny : 
Then let us teach our trial patience. 
Because it is a customary cross. 
As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs. 
Wishes and tears, poor fancy's ^ followers. 

Lys. A good persuasion : therefore, hear me, 
Hermia. 
I have a widow aunt, a dowager 
Of great revenue,^ and she hath no child : 
From Athens is her house remote seven leagues ; 
160 And she respects me as her only son. 
There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee ; 

1 love: of. fancy-free, II., i., 156. 

2 In this word, as often in Shakespeare, the accent sometimes 
differs from that of our own day. Cf. I., i., 0. 



10 JIAWTIJORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

And to that place the sharp Athenian law 
Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me then, 
Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night ; 
And in the wood, a league without the town, 
Where I did meet thee once with Helena, 
To do observance to a morn of May, 
There will I stay for thee. 

Her. My good Lysander ! 

I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow, 
170 By his best arrow with the golden head. 
By the simplicity of Venus' doves. 
By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves. 
And by that tire which burned the Carthage 

queen,! 
When the false Troy an under sail was seen. 
By all the vows that ever men have broke. 
In number more than ever woman spoke. 
In that same place thou hast appointed me. 
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. 

L^s. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes 

Helena. 

Unter Helena 

180 ITer. God speed fair Helena ! whither away ? 
Hel. Call you me fair ? that fair again unsay. 
Demetrius loves your fair : O happy fair ! 
Your eyes are lode-stars ; and your tongue's sweet 

air 
More tunable than lark to shepherd's ear. 
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds ap- 
pear. 

1 Dido. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 11 

Sickness is catching : O, were favor so, 

Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go ; 

My ear should catch your voice, my eye your 

eye, 
My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet 
melody. 
190 Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, 
The rest I'ld give to be to you translated. 
O, teach me how you look, and with what art 
You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart. 
H^er. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. 
ITel. O that your frowns would teach my 

smiles such skill ! 
Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. 
Hel. O that my prayers could such affection 

move ! 
Her. The more I hate, the more he follows 

me. 
Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me. 
200 Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. 

Hel. None, but your beauty : would that fault 

were mine ! 
Her. Take comfort : he no more shall see my 
face ; 
Ly Sander and myself will fly this place. 
Before the time I did Lysander see, 
Seemed Athens as a paradise to me : 
O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, 
That he hath turned a heaven unto a hell ! 

Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold : 



12 TIAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act I 

To-morrow night, when Phcjebe doth behold 
2IO Her silver visage in the watery glass, 

Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, 
A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal. 
Through Athens' gates have we devised to steal. 
ITer. And in the wood where often you and I 
Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie. 
Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet. 
There my Lysander and myself shall meet ; 
And thence from Athens turn away our eyes. 
To seek new friends and stranger companies. 
220 Farewell, sweet playfellow ; pray thou for us ; 
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius ! 
Keep word, Lysander : we must starve our sight 
From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight. 
Lys. I will, my Hermia. \_Uxit Herm. 

Helena, adieu : 
As you on him, Demetrius dote on you ! lUxit. 
Hel. How happy some o'er other some can be ! 
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. 
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so ; 
He will not know what all but he do know : 
230 And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, 
So I, admiring of his qualities : 
Things base and vile, holding no quantity. 
Love can transpose to form and dignity : 
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind ; 
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind : 
Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste ; 
Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste : 



Scene II] A MIBSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM 13 

And therefore is Love said to be a child, 
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled. 

240 As waggish boys in games themselves forswear, 
So the boy Love is perjured everywhere : 
For ere Demetrius looked on Hermia's eyne. 
He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine ; 
And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, 
So he dissolved, and shoAvers of oaths did melt. 
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight: 
Then to the wood will he to-morrow night 
Pursue her ; and for this intelligence 
If I have thanks, it is a dear expense : 

250 But herein mean I to enrich my pain, 

To have his sight thither and back again. \_Uxit. 

Scene II. Athens. Quince's house 

Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, 
and Starveling 1 

Quin. Is all our company here ? 

Bot. You were best to call them generally, man 
by man, according to the scrip. 

Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, 
which is thought ht, through all Athens, to play 

1 The appearance of these hard-handed Athenians brings in a 
comic element. The idea of the Masqne was that the beautiful 
and the grotesque or the comic should each gain by combination. 
Shakespeare uses the same idea, contrasting these artisans with the 
fairies who appear later. He adds also a burlesque on the comic 
actor: it may be that he had suffered at his hands. Cf. Hamlet, 
III., ii., 42-50; II., ii., 336. 



14 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act I 

in our interlude ^ before the duke and the duchess, 
on his wedding-day at night. 

Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the 
play treats on, then read the names of the actors, 
10 and so grow to a point. 

Quin. Marry, our play is. The most lamentable 
comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and 
Thisby. 

Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, 
and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth 
your actors by the scroll. Masters, spread your- 
selves. 

Quin. Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom, the 
weaver. 
20 Bot. Ready. Name what part I am for, and 
proceed. 

Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for 
Pyramus. 

Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? 

Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallant 
for love. 

Bot. That will ask some tears in the true per- 
forming of it : if I do it, let the audience look to 
their eyes ; I will move storms, I will condole in 
30 some measure. To the rest : yet my chief humor 
is for a t3a-ant : I could play Ercles rarely, or a 
part to tear a cat in, to make all split. 



1 As appears later this was but one of a number of interludes 
prepared for the occasion. 



Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 15 

The raging rocks 
And shivering shocks 
Shall break the locks 
Of prison gates ; 
And Phibbus' car 
Shall shine from far 
And make and mar 
40 The foolish Fates. 

This was lofty ! Now name the rest of the players. 
This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein ; a lover is 
more condoling. 

Quin. P'rancis Flute, the bellows-mender. 

Flu. Here, Peter Quince. 

Quin. Flute, you must take Thisby on you.i 

Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight ? 

Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love. 

Flu. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman ; 1 
50 have a beard coming. 

Quin. That's all one : you shall play it in a 
mask, and you may speak as small as you will. 

Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play 
Thisby too, I'll speak in a monstrous little voice, 
" Thisne, Thisne " ; " Ah Pyramus, my lover dear ! 
thy Thisby dear, and lady dear ! " 

Quin. No, no ; you must play Pyramus : and, 
Flute, you Thisby. 

Bot. Well, proceed. 

60 Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor. 

1 All the women's parts on the Elizabethan stage were played 
by boys. 



16 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

Star. Here, Peter Quince. 

Quin. Robert Starveling, you must play Thisby's 
mother. Tom Snout, the tinker. 

Snout. Here, Peter Quince. 

Quin. You, Pyramus' father: myself, Thisby's 
father. Snug, the joiner ; you, the lion's part : 
and, I hope, here is a play fitted. 

S)iug. Have you the lion's part written ? pray 
3'ou, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. 
70 Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is 
nothing but roaring. 

Bot. Let me play the lion too : I will roar, that 
I will do any man's heart good to hear me ; I will 
roar that I will make the duke say, " Let him roar 
again, let him roar again." 

Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you 
would fright the duchess and the ladies, that they 
would shriek ; and that were enough to hang us all. 

AIL That would hang us, every mother's son. 
80 Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you should 
fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have 
no more discretion but to hang us : but I will 
aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as 
gently as any sucking dove ; I will roar you an 
'twere any nightingale. 

Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus ; for 

Pyramus is a sweet-faced man ; a proper man, as 

one shall see in a summer's day ; a most lovely 

gentleman-like man: tlierefore you must needs 

90 lA'dj Pyramus. 



Scene IIJ A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 17 

Bot. Well, I Avill undertake it. What beard 
were I best to play it in ? 

Quin. Why, what you Avill. 

Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw- 
color beard, your orange-tawny beard, your pur- 
ple-in-grain beard, or j^our French-crown-color 
beard, your perfect yellow. 

Quin. Some of your French crowns have no 
hair at all, and then you will play barefaced. 
100 But, masters, here are your parts : and I am to 
entreat you, request you and desire you, to con 
them by to-morrow night ; and meet me in the 
palace wood, a mile without the town, by moon- 
light ; there will we rehearse, for if we meet in 
the city, we shall be dogged with company, and 
our devices known. In the meantime I will draw 
a bill of properties,^ such as our play wants. I 
pray you, fail me not. 

Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse 
no most obscenely and courageously. Take pains; 
be perfect : adieu. 

Quin. At the duke's oak we meet. 

Bot. Enough ; hold or cut bow-strings. 

\_Exeunt, 

1 The various things necessary for stage use. 



18 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

ACT II 

Scene I. A ivood near Athens^ 

Enter^ from opposite sides^ a Fairy and Puck 

Puck. How now, spirit! whither wander you? 

Fai. Over hill, over dale. 

Thorough bush, thorough brier. 
Over park, over pale, 

Thorough flood, thorough fire, 
I do wander every where. 
Swifter than the moones sphere ; ^ 
And I serve the fairy queen. 
To dew her orbs upon the green. 
The cowslips tall her pensioners be : 
In their gold coats spots you see ; 
Those be rubies, fairy favors. 
In those freckles live their savors : 
I must go seek some dewdrops here 
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.^ 

1 In this scene we have a new element brought in and one which 
turns everything topsy-turvj^, not sparing itself. In the fairy 
poetry we have some of Shakespeare's most charming fancies. 

- It was the old idea that the Avorld was surrounded by ten 
transparent spheres, each bearing with it the sun, the moon, or 
some planet, or all the fixed stars. As these spheres revolved in 
perfect harmony a divine music sounded, which was knoMni as 
" the music of the spheres." 

3 Here we have the first true fairy poetry, an example often 
followed (by Shakespeare himself, for instance in The Tempest), 
but never with the exquisite charm of the original. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 19 

Farewell, thou lob of spirits ; I'll be gone : 
Our queen and all her elves come here anon. 
Puck. The king doth keep his revels here 
to-night : 
Take heed the queen come not within his sight ; 
20 For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, 
Because that she as her attendant hath 
A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king ; 
Slie never had so sweet a changeling ; 
And jealous Oberon would have the child 
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild ; 
But she perforce withholds the loved boy. 
Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her 

And now they never meet in grove or green, 
By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen, 
30 But they do square,^ that all their elves for fear 
Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there. 

Fai, Either I mistake your shape and making 
quite, 
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite 
Called Robin Goodfellow ^ : are not you he 
That frights the maidens of the villagery ; 
Skim milk and sometimes labor in the quern 
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn ; 
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm ; 

1 jar or quarrel. 

2 Robin Goodfellow was a loutish country elf of tradition who 
hung about the farmhouses. He might be conciliated to help 
about the house (in the dead of night), but if he were angry he 
would do various mischievous tricks. 



20 UAWTIIOENE CLASSICS [Act II 

Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm ? 

40 Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck, 
You do their work, and they shall have good luck : 
Are not you he ? 

Puck. Thou speak'st aright i 

I am that merry wanderer of the night. 
I jest to Oberon and make him smile 
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile. 
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal : 
And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl. 
In very likeness of a roasted crab. 
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob 

50 And on her withered dewlap pour the ale. 
The wisest aunt telling the saddest tale, 
Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me ; 
Then slip I from her, then down topples she. 
And " tailor " cries, and falls into a cough ; 
And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh, 
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear 
A merrier hour was never wasted there. 
But, room, fairy ! here comes Oberon. 

Fai. And here my mistress. Would that he 
were gone ! 

Enter ^ from one side, Oberon, zvith his train ; from 
the other TiTANiA ivith hers 

60 Ohe. Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania. 

Tita. What, jealous Oberon ! Fairies, skip 
hence : 
I have forsworn his bed and company. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGTIT' S DREAM 21 

Obe. Tarry, rash wanton : am not I thy lord ? 

Tita. Then I must be thy lady : but I know 
When thou hast stolen away from fairy land, 
And in the shape of Corin ^ sat all day. 
Playing on pipes of corn and versing love 
To amorous Pliillida. Why art thou here. 
Come from the farthest steppe of India? 
70 But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, 
Your busldned mistress and your warrior love, 
To Theseus must be wedded, and you come 
To give their bed joy and prosperity. 

Obe. How canst thou thus for shame, Titania, 
Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, 
Knowing I know thy love to Theseus? 
Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering 

night 
From Perigenia, whom he ravished? 
And make him with fair Aegle break liis faith, 
80 With Ariadne and Antiopa? 

Tlta. These are the forgeries of jealousy : 
And never, since the middle summer's spring, 
Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead. 
By paved fountain or by rushy brook. 
Or in the beaclied margent of the sea, 
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind. 
But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport. 
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, 
As in revenge, have sucked up from the sea 

1 Corin and Pliillida were traditional names for the shepherd 
and shepherdess of the conventional pastoral. 



22 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

90 Contagious fogs ; which falling in the land 
Hath every pelting river made so proud 
That they have overborne their continents ^ : 
The ox hath therefore stretched his yoke in vain, 
The plowman lost his sweat, and the green corn 
Hath rotted ere his youth attained a beard ; 
The fold stands empty in the drowned field, 
And crows are fatted with the murrion flock ; 
The nine men's morris is filled up with mud, 
And the quaint mazes in the wanton green 

100 For lack of tread are undistinguishable : 
The human mortals want their winter here. 
No night is now with hymn or carol blest ; 
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods. 
Pale in her anger, washes all the air. 
That rheumatic diseases do abound : 
And thorough this distemperature we see 
The seasons alter : hoary-headed frosts 
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, 
And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown 

no An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds 
Is, as in mockery, set : the spring, tlie summer. 
The childing autumn, angry winter, change 
Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world. 
By their increase, now knows not Avhich is Avhich: 
And this same progeny of evils comes 
From our debate, from our dissension ; 
We are their parents and original. 

Obe. Do you amend it then ; it lies in you : 

1 the banks which contain them. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 23 

Why should Titaiiia cross her Oberon? 
120 1 do but beg a little changeling boy, 
To be my henchman. 

Tita. Set your heart at rest : 

The fairy land buys not the child of me. 
His mother was a votaress of my order : 
And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, 
Full often hath she gossiped by my side. 
And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, 
Marking tlie embarked traders on the flood ; 
And for her sake do I rear up her boy. 
And for her sake 1 will not part with him. 
130 Obe. How long within this wood intend you 
stay? 
Tita. Perchance till after Theseus' wedding- 
day. 
If you will patiently dance in our round 
And see our moonlight revels, go with us ; 
If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. 
Obe. Give me that boy, and I will go with thee. 
Tita. Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away! 
We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. 

[Uxit Titan I A tuith her train. 
Obe. Well, go thy way : thou shalt not from 
this grove 
Till I torment thee for this injury. 
140 My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememberest 
Since once I sat upon a promontory. 
And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back 
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath 



24 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

That the rude sea grew civil at her song 

And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, 

To liear the sea-maid's music. 

Puck, I remember. 

Obe. That very time I saw, hut thou couldst 
not, 
Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
Cupid all armed : a certain aim he took 

150 At a fair vestal throned by the west, ^ 

And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow. 

As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts ; 

But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft 

Quenched in the chaste beams of the watery moon. 

And the imperial votaress passed on, 

In maiden meditation, fancy-free. ^ 

Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell : 

It fell upon a little western flower. 

Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, 

160 And maidens call it love-in-idleness. 

Fetch me that flower ; the herb I showed thee once : 
The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid 
Will make or man or woman madly dote 
Upon the next live creature that it sees. 
Fetch me this herb ; and be thou here again 
Ere the leviathan can swim a league. 

Puck. I'll put a girdle round about the earth 
In forty minutes. [Exit. 

1 Namely, Elizabeth. The whole speech is a splendid compliment 
to the Queen. 

2Cf. I., i., 155, note. 



Scene I] A ^IIBSUMMER-NIGHT" S DREAM 25 

Obe. Having once this juice, 

ril watch Titania when she is asleep, 
170 And drop the liquor of it in her eyes. 

The next thing then she waking looks upon, 
Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull. 
On meddling monkey, or on busy ape, 
She shall pursue it with the soul of love : 
And ere I take this charm from off her sight, 
As I can take it with another herb, 
I'll make her render up her page to me. 
But who comes here ? I am invisible ; 
And I will overhear their conference. 

^nter Demetrius, Helena following him 

iSo Dem. I love thee not, therefore pursue me not. 

Where is Lysander and fair Hermia ? 

The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me. 

Thou told'st me they were stolen unto this wood ; 

And here am I, and wode ^ within this wood. 

Because I cannot meet my Hermia. 

Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more. 
ITel. You draw lue, you hard-hearted adamant ^ ; 

But yet you draw not iron, for ray heart 

Is true as steel : leave you your power to draw, 
190 And I shall have no power to follow you. 

Bern. Do I entice you? do I speak you fair? 

Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth 

Tell you, I do not, nor I cannot love you ? 

1 mad, crazy : the word is now obsolete. 

2 or lodestone, as was then imagined. 



26 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

Hel. And even for that do I love you the more. 
I am your spaniel ; and, Demetrius, 
The more you beat me, 1 will fawn on you : 
Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me, 
Neglect me, lose me ; only give me leave. 
Unworthy as I am, to follow you. 
200 What worser place can I beg in your love, — 
And yet a place of high respect with me, — 
Than to be used as you use your dog? 

Dem. Tempt not too much tlie hatred of my 
spirit. 
For I am sick when I do look on thee. 

Hel. And I am sick when I look not on you. 
De77i. You do impeach your modesty too much, 
To leave the city and commit yourself 
Into the hands of one that loves you not ; 
To trust the opportunity of night 
2IO And the ill counsel of a desert place 
With the rich worth of your virginity. 

Hel. Your virtue is my privilege for that ; 
It is not night when I do see your face, 
Therefore I think I am not in the night ; 
Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, 
For you in my respect are all the world : 
Then how can it be said I am alone. 
When all the world is here to look on me. 

Dem. I'll run from thee and hide me in the 
brakes, 
220 And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. 

Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you. 



Scene I] A MIBSUMMER-NIGHT S DREAM 27 

Run when you will, tlie .stt)ry shall be changed: 
Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase ; ^ 
The dove pursues the griffin ; the liiild hind 
Makes speed to catch the tiger ; bootless speed. 
When cowardice pursues and valor flies. 

Dem. I will not stay thy questions ; let me go : 
Or, if thou follow me, do not believe 
lUit I shall do thee mischief in the wood. 
230 Hel. Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, 

You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius ! 
. Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex : 
We cannot fight for love, as men may do ; 
We should be woo'd and were not made to woo. 

\_Exit Dem. 
I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell. 
To die upon the hand I love so well. \_Exit. 

Ohe. Fare thee well, nymph : ere he do leave 
this grove. 
Thou shalt fly liim and he shall seek thy love. 

Re-enter Puck 
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer. 
240 Puck. Aye, there it is. 

Ohe. I pray thee, give it me. 

I know a bank where the wdld thyme blows. 
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, 
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, 
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine : 

1 According to the story, Daphne was turned into the laurel in 
her flight from Apollo. 



28 HAWTHORNE' CLASSICS [Act II 

There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, 
Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight ; 
And there the snake throws her enameled skin, 
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in : 

250 And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes, 
And make her full of hateful fantasies. 
Take thou some of it, and seek througli this grove : 
A sweet Athenian lady is in love 
With a disdainful youth ; anoint his eyes : 
But do it wlien the next thing he espies 
May be tlie lady : thou shalt know the man 
By the Athenian garments he hath on. 
Effect it with some care that he may prove 
More fond on her than she upon her love : 

260 And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow. 
Piiclc. Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do 
so. [Exeunt. 

Scene 1 1. Another 'part of the wood 

Entei' Titania, ivith her train 

Tita. Come, now a roundel and a fairy song ; 
Then, for the third part of a minute, lience ; 
Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds. 
Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings, 
To make my small elves coats, and some keep 

back 
The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders 
At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep ; 
Then to your offices and let me rest. 



Scene II] A MIDSUMMEE-NIGIIT" 8 DREAM 29 

The Fairies sing 

You spotted snakes with double tongue, 
lo Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen ; 

Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong, 
Come not near our fairy queen. 
Philomel, with melody 
Sing in our sweet lullaby ; 
Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby : 
Never harm, 
Nor spell nor charm, 
Come our lovely lady nigh ; 
So, good night, with lullaby. 

20 Weaving spiders, come not here ; 

Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence ! 
Beetles black, approach not near ; 
Worm nor snail, do no offense. 
Philomel, with melody, &c. 
A Fairy. Hence, away ! now all is well : 
One aloof stand sentinel. 

\_Exe^int Fairies. TiTANiA sleeps. 

Enter Oberon, and squeezes the flower on 
Titania's eyelids 

Ohe. What thou seest when thou dost wake, 
Do it for thy true love take, 
Love and anguish for his sake : 
30 Be it ounce, or cat, or bear, 

Pard, or boar with bristled hair. 
In thy eye that shall appear 



30 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

When thou wakest, it is thy dear : 
Wake when some vile thing is near. 

[Uxit. 

Enter Lysander mid Hermia 

Lys. Fair love, you faint Avith wandering in 

the wood ; 
And to speak troth, I have forgot our way : 
We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good, 
And tarry for the comfort of the day. 
He7\ Be it so, Lysander : find you out a bed ; 
40 For I upon this bank will rest my head. 

Lys. One turf shall serve as pillow for us 
both ; 
One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth. 
Her. Nay, good Lysander ; for my sake, my 
dear. 
Lie further off yet, do not lie so near. 

Lys. O, take the sense, sweet, of my inno- 
cence ! 
Love takes the meaning in love's conference. 
I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit 
So that but one heart we can make of it ; 
Two bosoms interchained with an oath ; 
50 So then two bosoms and a single troth. 
Then by your side no bed-room me deny ; 
For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie. 

Her. Lysander riddles very prettily : 
Now much beshrew my manners and my pride. 
If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied. 



Scene II] A MIBSUMMER-NIGHT'S BnEAM 31 

But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy 
Lie further off ; in human modesty. 
Such separation as may well be said 
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid, 
60 So far be distant ; and, good night, sweet friend : 
Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end ! 

Lys. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I ; 
And then end life when I end loyalty ! 
Here is my bed : sleep give thee all his rest ! 
Her. With half that wish the Avisher's eyes be 
pressed ! \_They sleep. 

Enter PuCK 

Puck. Through the forest have I gone. 
But Athenian found I none, 
On whose eyes I might approve 
This flower's force in stirring love. 

70 Night and silence. — AVho is here ? 

Weeds ^ of Athens he doth wear ; 
This is he, my master said, 
Despised the Athenian maid ; 
And here the maiden, sleeping sound, 
On the dank and dirty ground. 
Pretty soul ! she durst not lie 
Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy. 
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw 
All the power this charm doth owe. 

80 When thou wakest, let love forbid 

Sleep liis seat on thy eyelid ; 
So awake wlien 1 am gone ; 
For I must now to Oberon. [Exit. 

1 garments. 



32 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

Enter Demetrius and Helena, running 
Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Deme- 
trius. 
Bern. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt 

me thus. 
Heh O, Avilt thou darkling leave me ? do not so. 
Bern. Stay, on thy peril : I alone will go. [^Exit. 
Hel. O, I am out of breath in this fond chase ! 
The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. 
90 Happy is Hermia, Avheresoe'er she lies ; 
For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. 
How came her eyes so bright ? Not with salt 

tears : 
If so, my eyes are oftener Avashed than hers. 
No, no, I am as ugly as a bear ; 
For beasts that meet me run away for fear : 
Therefore no marvel though Demetrius 
Do, as a monster, fly my presence tlius. 
What wicked and dissembling glass of mine 
Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne ? 
roo But who is here ? Lysander ! on the ground ! 
Dead? or asleep ? I see no blood, no wound. 
Lysander, if you live, good sir, aAvake. 

Lys. \_Awakiyig^ And run through fire I will 
for thy sweet sake. 
Transparent Helena ! ^ Nature shows art. 
That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. 
Where is Demetrius ? O, how fit a word 
Is that vile name to perish on my sword ! 
1 The juice of the flower works at once. 



Scene II] A MIDSUM3IER-NIGIIT\S DREAM 33 

Ilel. Do not say so, Lysander ; say not so. 

What though he love your Hermia ? Lord, what 
though ? 
no Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content. 

Li/s. Content with Hermia ! No ; I do repent 

The tedious minutes I with her have spent. 

Not Hermia but Helena I love : 

Who will not change a raven for a dove ? 

The will of man is by his reason swayed ; 

And reason says you are the worthier maid. 

Things growing are not ripe until their season : 

So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason ; 

iVnd touching now the point of human skill, 
120 Reason becomes the marshal to my will 

And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook 

Love stories written in love's richest book. 

ITel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery 
born ? 1 

When at your hands did I deserve this scorn ? 

Is't not enough, is't not enough, j^oung man. 

That I did never, no, nor never can. 

Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, 

But you must flout my insufficiency ? 

Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do, 
130 In such disdainful manner me to woo. 

But fare you well : perforce 1 must confess 

I thought you lord of more true gentleness. 

O, that a lady, of one man refused. 

Should of another therefore be abused ! [JExit. 

1 She cannot believe in such a sudden change. 

D 



34 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II, Sc. II 

Li/s. She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou 
there : 

And never mayst thou come Lysander near ! 

For as a surfeit of the sweetest things 

The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, 

Or as the heresies that men do leave 
140 Are hated most of those they did deceive, 

So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, 

Of all be hated, but the most of me ! 

And, all my powers, address you love and might 

To honor Helen and to be her knight ! lUxit. 

Her. \^Awaking~\ Help me, Lysander, help me ! 
do thy best 

To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast ! 

Ah me, for pity ! what a dream was here I 

Lysander, look how I do quake with fear : 

Methought a serpent eat my heart awa}^ 
150 And you sat smiling at his cruel prey. 

Lysander ! what, removed ? Lysander ! lord ! 

What, out of hearing ? gone ? no sound, no word? 

Alack, Avhere are you ? speak, an if you hear ; 

Speak, of all loves ! I swoon almost with fear. 

No ? then I well perceive you are not nigh : 

Either death or you I'll find immediately. [Uxit, 



Act III, Sc. I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT^ S DEE AM 35 
ACT III 

Scene I. The wood. Titania lying asleep 

Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, 
and Starveling 

Bot. Are we all met ? 

Quin. Pat, pat ; and here's a marvelous con- 
venient place for our rehearsal. This green plot 
shall be our stage, this hawthorn-brake our tiring- 
house ^ ; and we will do it in action as we will do 
it before the duke. 

Bot. Peter Quince, — 

Qui7i. What sayest thou, bully Bottom ? 

Bot. There are things in this comedy of Pyra- 

, mus and Thisby that will never please. First, 

Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself ; 

which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you 

that ? 

Snout. By'r lakin, a parlous fear. 

Star. I believe we must leave the killing out, 
when all is done. 

Bot. Not a whit : I have a device to make all 
welL Write me a prologue 2; and let the pro- 

1 or attiring house. The Elizahethan theater was a circular 
buildiug open to the sky, with rows of seats ahnost all around the 
walls. In the middle was the stage and at one end a house which 
served as a back scene and also as a place for the actors to dress in. 

2 A speech delivered by an actor before the play began . There 
is a prologue to Romeo and Juliet and one in the player's play in 
Hamlet. There was also a speech at the end of the play called an 
epilogue. There is one to this play and one to the Teynpest. 



36 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

logue seem to say, we will do no harm with our 
20 swords and that Pyramus is not killed indeed; 
and for the more better assurance, tell them that 
I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the 
weaver: this will put them out of fear. 

Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue ; 
and it shall be written in eight and six. 

Bot. No, make it two more ; let it be written 
in eight and eight. 

Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the 
lion ? 
30 Star. I fear it, I promise you. 

Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with your- 
selves : to bring in — God shield us ! — a lion 
among ladies, is a most dreadful thing ; for there 
is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion liv- 
ing ; and we ought to look to't. 

Snout. Therefore another prologue must tell he 
is not a lion. 

Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and half 
his face must be seen through the lion's neck : 
40 and he himself must speak through, saying thus, 
or to the same defect, — ' Ladies,' — or ' Fair 
ladies, — I would wish you,' — or 'I would request 
you,' — or 'I would entreat you, — not to fear, not 
to tremble: my life for yours. If you think I 
come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life : no, 
I am no such thing ; I am a man as other men 
are ; ' and there indeed let him name his name, and 
tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMEB-NIGHT' 8 DREAM 37 

Quiyi. Well, it shall be so. But there is two 
50 hard things ; that is, to bring the moonlight into 
a chamber,! for, you know, Pyramus and Thisby 
meet by moonlight. 

Snout. Doth the moon shine that night we play 
our play ? 

Bot. A calendar, a calendar ! look in the al- 
manac ; find out moonshine, find out moonshine. 
Quin, Yes, it doth shine that night. 
Bot. Why, then may you leave a casement of 
the great chamber window, where we play, open, 
60 and the moon may shine in at the casement. 

Quin, Ay ; or else one must come in with a 
bush of thorns and a lanthorn, and says he comes 
to disfigure, or to present, the person of Moon- 
shine. Then, there is another thing : we must 
have a wall in the great chamber ; for Pyramus 
and Thisby, says the story, did talk through the 
chink of a wall. 

Snout. You can never bring in a wall. What 
say you. Bottom ? 
70 Bot. Some man or other must present Wall : 
and let him have some plaster, or some loam, or 
some rough-cast about him, to signify wall ; and 
let him hold his fingers thus, and through that 
cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper. 



1 We must compare this effort to express everything iu some 
way or another, with the general lack of scenery and costume of 
the Elizabethan stage. Shakespeare seems to mean that it is 
absurd to leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. 



38 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Qiii7i. If that may be, then all is well. Come, 
sit down, every mother's son, and rehearse your 
parts. Pyramus, you begin : when 3'ou have 
spoken your speech, enter into that brake : and so 
every one according to his cue. 

Miter Puck behind 
80 Puck. AVliat hempen home-spuns have we swag- 
gering here. 
So near the cradle of the fairy queen ? 
What, a play toward ! ^ Pll be an auditor ; 
An actor too perhaps, if I see cause. 

Quin. Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth. 
Bot. Thisby, the flowers of odious savors 

sweet, — 
Quin. Odorous, odorous. 

Bot. odors savors sweet : 

So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisb}^ dear. 
But hark, a voice ! stay thou but here awhile, 
90 And by and by I will to tliee appear. \_Uxit. 

Puck. A stranger Pyramus than e'er played 
liere. \_Biit. 

Flu. Must I speak now ? 

QU171. Ay, marry, must you ; for j^ou must 
understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, 
and is to come again. 

Flu. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of 
hue, 
Of color like the red rose on triumphant 
brier, 

1 ill preparation. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMEE-NIGHT'S DREAM 89 

Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely 
Jew, 
As true as truest horse that yet would 
never tire, 
ril meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb. 
Quin. '^ Ninus' tomb," man : why, you must not 
speak that yet ; that you answer to Pyramus : you 
speak all your part at once ; cues and all. Pyra- 
mus, enter : your cue is past ; it is, "never tire." 
Flu. O, — As true as truest horse, that yet 
would never tire. 

He-enter PuCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head 

Bot. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine. 
Quin. O monstrous ! O strange ! we are haunted. 
Pray, masters ! fly, masters ! Help ! 

^Exeunt Quince, Snug, Flute, 

Snout and Starveling. 

Puck, ril follow you, I'll lead you about a 

round. 
Through bog, through bush, through brake, 
through brier : 
Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, 
A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire ; 
And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and 

burn. 
Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. 

[Exit. 
Bot. Why do they run away ? this is a knavery 
of them to make me afeard. 



40 IIAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Re-enter Snout 

Snout. O Bottom, thou art changed ! what do 
I see on thee ? 

Bot. What do you see ? you see an ass-head of 
120 your own, do you? [Exit Snout. 

Re-enter Quince 
Quin. Bless thee. Bottom ! bless thee ! thou 
art translated. \_Uxit. 

Bot. I see their knavery : this is to make an 
ass of me ; to fright me, if they could. But I will 
not stir from this place, do what they can : I will 
walk up and dow^n here, and I will sing, that they 
shall hear I am not afraid. \_Sings. 

The ousel cock so black of hue. 
With orange- tawny bill, 
130 The throstle with his note so true, 

The wren with little quill, — 

Tita. [AwaJdngl Wliat angel wakes me from 
my flowery bed ? 
Bot. \_Sings~\ 

The finch, the sparrow and the lark. 
The plain-song cuckoo gray. 

Whose note full many a man doth mark. 
And dares not answer nay ; — 

for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a 
bird ? who would give a bird the lie, though he 
140 cry '^ cuckoo" never so ? 

Tita. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again : 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMER -NIGHT\S DREAM 41 

Mine ear is much enamored of tliy note; 

So is mine eye entliralled to thy shape ; 

And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me 

On the hrst view to say, to swear I love thee. 

Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should liave little 
reason for that : and yet, to say the truth, reason 
and love keep little company together nowadays; 
the more the pity that some honest neighbors 
150 will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek 
upon occasion. 

Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. 

Bot. Not so, neither : but if I had wit enousfh 
to get out of tliis wood, I have enough to serve 
mine own turn. 

Tita. Out of this wood do not desire to go : 
Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. 
I am a spirit of no common rate : 
The summer still doth tend upon my state ; 
160 And I do love thee : therefore, go with me ; 
I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee. 
And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep. 
And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep i 
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so 
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. 
Peaseblossom ! Cobweb ! Moth ! and Mustard- 
seed ! 

Unter Peaseblossom, 'Cobweb, Moth, and 

MUSTARDSEED 

Peas. Ready. 

Cob. And I. 



42 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Moth. And I. 

3Ius. And 1. 

AIL Where shall we go ? 

Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman ; 
Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes ; 
170 Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, 

With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries ; 
The honey-bags steal from the liumble-bees. 
And for night- tapers crop their waxen thighs. 
And light them at the fiery gloAv-worm's eyes, 
To have my love to bed and to arise ; 
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies 
To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes : 
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. 

Peas. Hail, mortal I 

Cob. Hail ! 

3Ioth. Hail ! 

Mus. Hail ! 

180 Bof. I cry your worships mercy, heartily : I 
beseech your worship's name. 

Cob. Cobweb. 

Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, 
good Master Cobweb : if I cut my finger, I shall 
make bold with you.^ Your name, honest gentle- 
man ? 

Peas. Peaseblossom. 

Bot. I pray you, commend me to Mistress 
Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your 

1 Bottom takes them all with rather a matter-of-faet sort of 
country humor. 



Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT S BREAM 43 

190 father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire 
you of more acquaintance too. Your name, I be- 
seech you, sir? 

Mus. Mustardseed. 

Bot. Good Master Mustardseed, I know your 
patience well : that same cowardly, giant-like ox- 
beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your 
house : I promise you your kindred hath made my 
eyes water ere now. I desire your more acquaint- 
ance, good Master Mustardseed. 
200 Tita. Come, wait upon him ; lead him to my 
bower. 
The moon methinks looks with a watery eye ; 
And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, 
Lamenting some enforced chastity. 
Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. 

\_Exeunt. 

Scene II. Ayiother 'part of the wood 

Enter Oberon 
■ 

Ohe. I wonder if Titania be awaked ; 

Then, what it was that next came in her eye. 

Which she must dote on in extremity. 

Enter Puck 
Here comes my messenger. 

How now, mt^d spirit ! 
What night-rule now about this haunted grove ? 
Puck. My mistress with a monster is in love. 
Near to her close and consecrated bower. 



44 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, 
A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, 

10 That work for bread upon Athenian stalls. 
Were met together to rehearse a play 
Intended for great Theseus' nuptial day. 
The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort. 
Who Pyramus presented, in their sport 
Forsook his scene and entered in a brake : 
When I did him at this advantage take, 
An ass's nole I fixed on his head : 
Anon his Thisbe must be answered. 
And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy, 

20 As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, 
Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort. 
Rising and cawing at the gun's report, 
Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, 
So, at his sight, away his fellows fly ; 
And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls ; 
He murder cries and help from Athens calls. 
Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus 

strong. 
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong ; 
For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch ; 

30 Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things 
catch. 
I led them on in this distracted fear. 
And left sweet Pyramus translated there : 
When in that moment, so it came to pass, 
Titania waked and straightway loved an ass. 
Obe. This falls out better than I could devise. 



Scene II] A MIDSUMMEB-NIGHT' S DUE AM 45 

But hast thou yet hitched the Atheuiau's eyes 
With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do ? 

Puck. I took him sleeping, — that is finished too, — 
And the Athenian woman by his side ; 
40 That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed. 

Unter Hermia and Demetrius 

Obe. Stand close : this is the same Athenian. 

Puck. This is the woman, but not this the man. 

Dem. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? 
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. 

Her. Now I but chide ; but I should use thee 
worse. 
For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse. 
If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep. 
Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep. 
And kill me too. 
50 The sun was not so true unto the day 
As he to me : would he have stolen away 
From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon 
This whole earth may be bored and that the moon 
May through the center creep and so displease 
Her brother's noontide with the Antipodes. 
It cannot be but thou hast murdered him ; 
So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim. 

Dem. So should the murdered look, and so 
should I, 
Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty: 
60 Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear. 
As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. 



46 HAWTHOHNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Her. What's this to my Lysaiider? where is lie? 
Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me? 
Dem. I had rather give his carcass to my 

hounds. 
ITer. Out, dog ! out, cur ! thou drivest me past 
the bounds 
Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then? 
Henceforth be never numbered among men ! 
O, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake ! 
Durst thou have looked upon him being awake, 
70 iVnd hast thou killed him sleeping? O brave 
touch ! 
Could not a worm, an adder, do so much? 
An adder did it ; for with doubler tongue 
Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. 
Dem. You spend your passion on a misprised 
mood : 
I am not guilty of Lysander's blood ; 
Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. 

ffer. I pray thee, tell me then that he is w^ell. 
I)e7n. An if I could, what should I get therefore ? 
Ser. A privilege never to see me more. 
80 And from thy hated presence part I so : 
See me no more, Avhether he be dead or no. \_Uxit. 
Dem. There is no following her in this fierce 
vein: 
Here therefore for a while I will remain. 
So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow 
For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe ; 
Which now in some slight measure it will pay, 



Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM 47 

If for his tender here I make some stay. 

\_Lies down and sleeps. 
Ohe. What hast thou done ? thou hast mistaken 
quite 
And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight : 
90 Of thy misprision must perforce ensue 

Some true love turned and not a false turned true. 
Puck. Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man hold- 
ing troth, 
A million fail, confounding oath on oath. 

Ohe. About the wood go swifter than the wind, 
And Helena of Athens look thou find : 
All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer. 
With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear: 
By some illusion see thou bring her here : 
I'll charm his eyes against she do appear. 
100 Puck. I go, I go ; look how I go. 

Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. \_Exit. 
Ohe. Flower of this j^urple dye. 
Hit with Cupid's archery. 
Sink in apple of his eye. 
When his love he doth espy, 
Let her shine as gloriously 
As the Venus of the sky. 
When thou wakest, if she be by. 
Beg of her for remedy. 

Re-enter PuCK 

no Puck. Captain of our fairy band, 
Helena is here at hand : 



48 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

And the youth, mistook by me, 
Pleading for a lover's fee. 
Shall we their fond pageant see? 
Lord, what fools these mortals be ! 
Obe. Stand aside : the noise they make 

Will cause Demetrius to awake. 
Puck. Then will two at once avoo one ; 
That must needs be sport alone ; 
[20 And those things do best please me. 

That befall preposterously. 

JSjiter Lysander and Helena 

Li/s. Why should you think that I should woo 

in scorn ? ^ 
Scorn and derision never come in tears : 
Look, when I vow, I weep ; and vows so born. 

In their nativity all truth appears. 
How can these things in me seem scorn to you. 
Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true ? 
Hel. You do advance your cunning more and 

more. 
When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray ! 
130 These vows are Hermia's : will you give her o'er? 
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing 
weigh : 
Your voAvs to her and me, put in two scales. 
Will even weigh, and both as light as tales. 
Li/s. I had no judgment when to her T sAvore. 

1 Note the metrical form of this speech and the next : it is 
repeated later iu the scene. 



Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGUT'S BREAM 49 

Ilel. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her 
o'er. 

L^s. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. 

Dem. [Atvaking^ O Helen, goddess, nymph, 
perfect, divine ! 
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne ? 
Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show 
140 Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow I 
That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow. 
Fanned with the eastern wind, turns to a crow 
When thou hold'st up thy hand : O, let me kiss 
This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss ! 

Eel. O spite ! O hell ! I see you all are bent 
To set against me for your merriment : 
If you were civil and knew courtesy. 
You would not do me thus much injury. 
Can you not hate me, as I know you do, 
150 But you must join in souls to mock me too? 
If you were men, as men you are in show. 
You would not use a gentle lady so ; 
To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, 
When I am sure you hate me with your hearts. 
You both are rivals, and love Hermia ; 
And now both rivals, to mock Helena : 
A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, 
To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes 
With your derision ! none of noble sort 
160 Would so offend a virgin and extort 

A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. 

Li/s. You are unkind, Demetrius ; be not so ; 



60 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

For you love Hermia ; this 3^011 know 1 kno^y : 
And liere, with all good will, with all my heart, 
In Hermia's love I yield you up my part ; 
And yours of Helena to me bequeath, 
Whom I do love and Avill do till my death. 

ITel. Never did mockers waste more idle breath. 

Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia ; I will none : 
170 If e'er I loved, her, all that love is gone. 
My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourned, 
And now to Helen is it home returned, 
There to remain. 

Li/s. Helen, it is not so. 

Dem. Disparage not the faith thou dost not 
know. 
Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear. 
Look, where thy love comes ; yonder is thy dear. 

Re-enter Hermia 

Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function 
takes. 
The ear more quick of apprehension makes ; 
Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, 
180 It pays the hearing double recompense. 

Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found ; 
Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound. 
But why unkindly didst thou leave me so ? 

Lys. Why should he stay, whom love doth 

press to go ? 
Her. What love could press Lysander from my 

side ? 



Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S BREAM 51 

Lys. Lysander's love, that would not let liim 
bide, 
Fair Helena, who more engilds the night 
Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light. 
Why seek'st thou me ? could not this make thee 
know, 

190 The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so ? 

Her. You speak not as you think : it cannot be. 
HeL Lo, she is one of this confederacy I 
Now I perceive they have conjoined all three 
To fashion this false sport, in spite of me. 
Injurious Hermia ! most ungrateful maid ! 
Have you conspired, have you with these contrived 
To bait me with this foul derision ? 
Is all the counsel tliat we two have shared. 
The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, 

200 When we have chid the hasty-footed time 
For parting us, — O, is all forgot ? 
All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence ? 
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods. 
Have with our needles created both one flower, 
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, 
Both warbling of one song, both in one key. 
As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds. 
Had been incorporate. So we grew together, 
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, 

210 But yet an union in partition ; ^ 

1 a heraldic term expressing very concisely and neatly, if not 
elegantly, the comparison with two coats of arms put side by side 
in one escutcheon, to indicate marriage. 



52 IIAWTnOBNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Two lovely berries molded on one stem ; 
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart ; 
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry. 
Due but to one and crowned with one crest. 
And will you rent our ancient love asunder. 
To join with men in scorning your poor friend ? 
It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly : 
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it. 
Though I alone do feel the injur^^ 

220 Her. I am amazed at your passionate words. 
I scorn you not : it seems that you scorn me. 

Ilel. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn. 
To follow me and praise my eyes and face ? 
And made your other love, Demetrius, 
Who even but now did spurn me with his foot. 
To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare. 
Precious, celestial ? Wherefore speaks he this 
To her he hates ? and wherefore doth Lysander 
Deny your love, so rich within his soul, 

230 And tender me, forsooth, affection, 

But by 3^our setting on, by your consent ? 
What though I be not so in grace as you, 
So hung upon with love, so fortunate, 
But miserable most, to love unloved ? 
This you should pity rather than despise. 

Her. I understand not what you mean by 

this. 
Hel. Aye, do, persever,i counterfeit sad looks. 
Make mouths upon me when I turn my back ; 

1 The accent is on the second syllable: cf. revenue, I., i., 158. 



Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT\S DREAM 53 

Wink each at other ; hold the sweet jest up : 
240 This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. 
If you have any pity, grace, or manners, 
You would not make me such an argument. 
But fare ye well : 'tis partly my own fault ; 
Which death or absence soon shall remedy. 

L^s. Stay, gentle Helena ; hear my excuse : 
My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena ! 
Ilel. O excellent ! 

Jler. Sweet, do not scorn her so. 

Dem. If she cannot entreat, I can compel. 
Li/s. Thou canst compel no more than she en- 
treat : 
250 Thy threats have no more strength than her weak 
prayers. 
Helen, I love thee ; by my life, I do : 
I swear by that which I will lose for thee. 
To prove him false that says I love thee not. 
Dem. I say I love thee more than he can do. 
Lt/s. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. 
Dem. Quick, come ! 

Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this ? 

L^s. Away, you Ethiope ! 
Her. No, no ; he'll — 

Dem. Seem to break loose ! take on as you 
would follow, 
But yet come not ! you are a tame man, go ! 
260 Li/s. Hang oft', thou cat, thou bur ! vile thing, 
let loose. 
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent ! 



54 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Her. Why are you grown so rude ? what change 
is this ? 
Sweet love, — 

Li/s. Thy love ! out, tawny Tartar, out ! 

Out, loathed medicine ! hated potion, hence ! 

ITer, Do you not jest ? 

ffel. Yes, sooth ; and so do you. 

Lt/s. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. 

Dem. I would I had your bond, for I perceive 
A weak bond holds you : I'll not trust your word. 

X^/s. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill 
her dead ? 
270 Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so. 

Her. What, can you do me greater harm than 
hate ? 
Hate me I wherefore? O me ! what news, my love ! 
Am I not Hermia ? are you not Lysander ? 
I am as fair now as I Avas ere while. 
Since night you loved me ; yet since night you 

left me : 
Why, then you left me — O, the gods forbid ! — 
In earnest, shall I say ? 

Li/s. Ay, by my life ; 

And never did desire to see thee more. 
Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt ; 
2S0 Be certain, nothing truer ; 'tis no jest 
That I do hate tliee and love Helena. 

Her. O me ! you juggler! you canker-blossom! 
You tliief of love ! what, have you come by night 
And stolen my love's heart from liim ? 



Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S BEE AM 55 

j£gl^ Fine, i' faith ! 

Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, 
No touch of bashfulness ? What, will you tear 
Impatient answers from my gentle tongue ? 
Fie, fie ! you counterfeit, you puppet, you ! 

Her. Puppet ? why so ? ay, that way goes the 
game. 
290 Now I perceive that she hath made compare 

Between our statures ; she hath urged her height ; 
And with her personage, her tall personage. 
Her height, forsooth, she hath prevailed with him. 
And are you grown so high in his esteem, 
Because I am so dwarfish and so low ? 
How low am I, thou painted maypole ? speak ; 
How low am I ? I am not yet so low 
^ But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. 

Hel. I pray you, though you mock me, gentle- 
men, 
300 Let her not hurt me : I was never curst ; 
I have no gift at all in shrewishness ; 
I am a right maid for my cowardice : 
Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think. 
Because she is something lower than myself. 
That I can match her. 

Her. Lower ! hark, again. 

Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. 
I evermore did love you, Hermia, 
Did ever keep your counsels, never wronged you ; 
Save that, in love unto Demetrius, 
310 1 told him of your stealth unto this wood. 



56 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

He followed you ; for love I followed him ; 
But lie hath chid me heuce and threatened me 
To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too : 
And now, so you will let me quiet go. 
To Athens will I bear my folly back 
And follow you no further : let me go : 
You see how simple and how fond I am. 

Jler. Why, get you gone : who is't that hinders 

you ? 
Ilel. A foolish heart, that I leave here behind. 
320 Her. AVhat, with Lysander ? 

ITel. AVith Demetrius. 

I/7/S. Be not afraid ; she shall not harm thee, 

Helena. 
Dem. No, sir, she shall not, though you take her 

part. 
Ilel. O, when she's angry, she is keen and 
shrewd ! 
She was a vixen when she went to school ; 
And though she be but little, she is fierce. 

Her. " Little " again I nothing but '' low " and 
"little"! 
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus ? 
Let me come to her. 

Li/s. Get you gone, you dwarf ; 

You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made ; 
330 You bead, you acorn. 

Dem. You are too officious 

On her behalf that scorns your services. 
Let her alone : speak not of Helena ; 



Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' H DREAM 57 

Take not her part ; for, if thou dost intend 
Never so little show of love to her, 
Thou shalt aby it. 

Li/s. Now she holds me not ; 

Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right, 
Of thine or mine, is most in Helena. 

De7n. Follow ! nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by 
jole. \_Exeimt Lysandeii and Demetrius. 

Her. You, mistress, all this coil is long of you : 
340 Nay, go not back. 

Hel. I will not trust you, I, 

Nor longer stay in your curst company. 
Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray. 
My legs are longer though, to run away. [^Exit. 

Her. I am amazed, and know not what to say. 

\_Exit. 

Ohe. This is thy negligence : still thou mis- 
takest, 
Or else committ'st thy knaveries willfully. 

Puck. Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. 
Did not you tell me I should know the man 
By the Athenian garments he had on ? 
350 And so far blameless proves my enterprise. 
That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes ; 
And so far am I glad it so did sort 
As this their jangling I esteem a sport. 

Ohe. Thou see'st these lovers seek a place to 
fight : 
Hie, therefore, Robin, overcast the night ; 
The starry welkin cover thou anon 



58 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

With drooping fog as black as Acheron, 
And lead these testy rivals so astray 
As one come not within another's way. 

360 Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue, 
Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong ; 
And sometime rail thou like Demetrius ; 
And from each other look thou lead them thus, 
Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep 
With leaden legs and. batty wings doth creep ; 
Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye ; 
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, 
To take from thence all error Avith his might. 
And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight. 

370 When they next wake, all this derision 
Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision. 
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend. 
With league whose date till death shall never end. 
Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, 
I'll to my queen and beg her Indian boy : 
And then I will her charmed eye release 
From monster's view, and all things shall be peace. 
Puck. My fairy lord, this must be done with 
haste. 
For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, 

380 And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger ; 

At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and 

there. 
Troop home to churchyards ;^ damned spirits all, 
That in crossways and floods have burial, 

1 So the ghost of Hamlet's father vanished at cock-crow. 



Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 59 

Already to their wormy beds are gone ; 

For fear lest day should look their shames upon, 

They willfully themselves exile from light 

And must for aye consort with black-browed night. 

Obe. But we are spirits of another sort : 
I with the morning's love have oft made sport, 
390 And, like a forester, the groves may tread. 
Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red. 
Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams. 
Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams. 
But, notwithstanding, haste ; make no delay : 
We may effect this business yet ere day. \_Uxit. 
Puck. Up and down, up and down, 

I will lead them up and down : 
I am feared in field and town : 
Goblin, lead them up and down. 
400 Here comes one. 

Ee-e'nter Lysander 
Xz/s. Where art thou, proud Demetrius ? speak 

thou now. 
Puck. Here, villain ; drawn and ready. Where 

art thou ? 
Li/s. I will be with thee straight. 
Fuck. Follow me, then. 

To plainer ground. 

\_Uxit Lysander, as folloiving the voice. 

Re-enter Demetrius 
Dem. Lysander ! speak again : 

Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled ? 



60 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Speak ! In some bush ? Where dost thou hide 
thy head ? 
Puek. Thou coAvard, art thou bragging to the 
stars, 
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, 
And wilt not come ? Come, recreant ; come, thou 
child 
410 I'll whip thee with a rod : he is defiled 
That draws a sword on thee. 

Bern. Yea, art thou there ? 

Puck. Follow my voice : we'll try no manhood 

here. {Exeunt. 

Re-enter Lysander 

Ijy8. He goes before me and still dares me on : 
When I come where he calls, then he is gone. 
The villain is much lighter heeled than I : 
I followed fast, but faster he did fly ; 
That fallen am I in dark uneven way. 
And here will rest me. \Ijies down.^ Come, thou 

gentle day ! 
For if but once thou show me thy gray light, 
420 I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite. 

\_Slee]p8. 

Re-enter Puck and Demetrius 

Puck. Ho, ho, ho ! Coward, why comest thou 

not? 
Dem. Abide me, if thou darest ; for well I wot 
Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place. 



Scene II] A MIBSUMMER-NIGHT" ^ DEEAM 61 

And darest not stand, nor look me in the face. 
Where art thou now ? 

Puck. Come hither : I am here. 

Dem. Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt 
buy this dear, 
If ever I thy face by daylight see : 
Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me 
To measure out my length on this cold bed. 
430 By day's approach look to be visited. 

\_Lies doivn and sleeps. 

Re-enter Helena 

Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night. 
Abate thy hours ! Shine comforts from the east. 
That I may back to Athens by daylight, 

From these that my poor company detest : 
And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, 
Steal me awhile from mine own company. 

\^Lies down and sleeps. 
Puck. Yet but three ? Come one more ; 
Two of both kinds make up four. 
Here she comes, curst and sad : 
440 Cupid is a knavish lad. 

Thus to make poor females mad. 

Re-enter Hermia 

Her. Never so weary, never so in woe. 

Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers, 

I can no further crawl, no further go : 

My legs can keep no pace with my desires. 



62 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III, So. II 

Here will 1 rest me till the break of day. 
Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray ! 

\_Lies down and sleeps. 
Puck. On the ground 

Sleep sound: 
450 I'll apply 

To your e3^e, 
Gentle lover, remedy. 
[Squeezing the juice on Lysander's ei/es. 
When thou wakest, 
Thou takest 
True delight 
In the sight 
Of thy former lady's eye : 
And the country proverb known, 
That every man should take his own, 
460 In your waking shall be shown : 

Jack shall have Jill ; 
Naught shall go ill ; 
The man shall have his mare again, and all shall 
be well. lUxit, 



Act IV, Sc. I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 63 



ACT IV 

Scene I. The same. Lysander, Demetrius, 
Helena, and Hermia l^ing asleep 

Enter Titania and Bottom ; Peaseblossom, 
Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseed, and other 
Fairies attending; Oberon behind unseen 

Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery 
bed, 
While I thy amiable cheeks do coy. 

And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, 
And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. 

Bot. Where's Peaseblossom ? 

Peas. Ready. 

Bot. Scratch my head, Peaseblossom. Where's 
Mounsieur Cobweb ? 

Cob. Ready. 

Bot. Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get 
you your weapons in your hand, and kill me a 
red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle ; 
and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey- bag. 
Do not fret yourself too much in the action, 
mounsieur ; and, good mounsieur, have a care 
the honey-bag break not ; I would be loath to 
have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior. 
Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed ? 

Mus. Ready. 



64 UA]\ THORN E CLASSICS [Act IV 

20 Bot. Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustard- 
seed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good 
mounsieur. 

Miis, What's your Avill ? 

Bot. Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help 
Cavalery CobAveb to scratch. I must to the 
barber's, mounsieur ; for methinks I am marvel- 
ous hairy about the face ; and I am such a tender 
ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch. 

Tita. AVhat, wilt thou hear some music, my 
30 sweet love ? 

Bot. I have a reasonable good ear in music. 
Let's have the tongs and the bones. 

Tita. Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to 
eat. 

Bot. Truly, a peck of provender : I could 
munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a 
great desire to a bottle ^ of hay : good hay, sweet 
hay, hath no fellow. 

Tita, I have a venturous fairy that shall seek 
40 The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. 

Bot. I had rather have a handful or two of 
dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your 
people stir me : I have an exposition of sleep 
come upon me. 

Tita. Sleep thou, and I Avill wind thee in my 
arms. 
Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away. 

l_Uxeu7it Fairies. 

1 a small bundle. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S BBEAM 65 

So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle 
Gently entwist ; the female ivy so 
5oEnrings the barky fingers of the elm. 
O, how I love thee ! how I dote on thee ! 

[^They sleep. 
Enter Puck 

Ohe, \^Advaneing'] Welcome, good Robin. See'st 
thou this sweet sight ? 
Her dotage now I do begin to pity : 
For, meeting her of late behind the wood, 
Seeking sweet favors for this hateful fool, 
I did npbraid her and fall out with her ; 
For she his hairy temples then had rounded 
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers ; 
And that same dew, which sometime on the 
buds 

60 Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls. 
Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes 
Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. 
When I had at my pleasure taunted her 
And she in mild terms begged my patience, 
I then did ask of her her changeling child ; 
Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent 
To bear him to my bower in fairy land. 
And now I have the boy, I will undo 
This hateful imperfection of her eyes : 

70 And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp 
From off the head of this Athenian swain; 
That, he awaking when the other do. 
May all to Athens back again repair 



66 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

And think no more of this night's accidents 
But as the fierce vexation of a dream. 
But first I will release the fairy queen. 
Be as thou wast wont to be ; 
See as thou wast wont to see : 
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower 
So Hath such force and blessed power 

Now, my Titania ; wake you, my sweet queen. 

Tita. My Oberon ! what visions have I seen ! 
Methought I was enamored of an ass. 
Ohe. There lies your love. 

Tita. How came these things to pass? 

O how mine eyes do loathe his visage now ! 

Obe. Silence awhile. Robin, take off this 
head. 
Titania, music call ; and strike more dead 
Than common sleep of all these five the sense. 
Tita. Music, ho! music, such as charmeth sleep ! 

[Music, still. 
90 Puck. Now, when thou wakest, with thine own 
fool's eyes peep. 
Ohe. Sound, music ! Come, my queen, take 
hands with me, 
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. 
Now thou and I are new in amity 
And will to-morrow midnight solemnly 
Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly 
And bless it to all fair prosperity : 
There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be 
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 67 

Puck. Fairy king, attend, and mark : 
loo I do hear the morning lark. 

Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad, 
Trip we after nightes shade : 
We the globe can compass soon, 
Swifter than the wandering moon. 
Tita. Come, my lord, and in our flight 
Tell me how it came this night 
That I sleeping here was found 
With these mortals on the ground. 

\_Uxeunt. 
[Horns ivinded ivithin. 

Enter Thesefs, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train^ 

The. Go, one of you, find out the forester ; 
no For now our observation is performed ; 

And since we have the vaward of the day, 

My love shall hear the music of my hounds. 

Uncouple in the western valley ; let them go : 

Dispatch, I say, and find the forester. 

\_Uxit an Attendant. 

We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top. 

And mark the musical confusion 

Of hounds and echo in conjunction. 

Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once. 

When in a wood of Crete they bayed the bear 
I20 With hounds of Sparta : never did I hear 

Such gallant chiding ; for, besides the groves, 

The skies, the fountains, every region near 

1 We uow get back to real life after the fairy vagaries. 



68 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

Seemed all one mutual cry : I never heard 
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. ^ 

The. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, 
So fleAv'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung 
With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; 
Crook-kneed, and dew-lapped like Thessalian 

bulls ; 
Slow in pursuit, but matched in mouth like bells, 
130 Each under each. A cry more tuneable 
Was never hollaed to, nor cheered with horn. 
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly : 
Judge when you hear. But, soft ! what nymj)hs 
are these? 
^(/e. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep ; 
And this, Lysander ; this Demetrius is ; 
This Helena, old Nedar's Helena : 
I wonder of their being here together. 

The. No doubt they rose up early to observe 
The rite of May, and, hearing our intent, 
140 Came here in grace of our solemnity. 
But speak, Egeus ; is not this the day 
That Hermia should give answer of her choice ? 
JEge. It is, my lord. 

The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with 
their horns. 

\_Rorns and shout tvithin. Lys., Dem., 
Hel., and Her., tvake and start up. 

1 Well matched voices were highly esteemed in a pack of hounds. 
Gervaise Markhaiu who wrote his "Country Contentments" not 
long before this time, gives directions for the "deep, solemn 
mouths" and the "loud, ringing mouths." Cf. Irving on Christ- 
mas Day in " American Essays," pp. 42, 43. 



Scene I] A MIDSU3IMER-NIGHT\S DREAM 69 

Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past : 
Begin these wood-birds but to couple now? 

Lys. Pardon, my lord. 

The. I pray you all, stand up. 

I know you two are rival enemies : 
150 How comes this gentle concord in the world. 
That hatred is so far from jealousy, 
To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity ? 

Li/s. My lord, I shall reply amazedly. 
Half sleep, half waking : but as yet, I swear, 
I cannot truly say how I came here ; 
But, as I think, — for truly would I speak. 
And now I do bethink me, so it is, — 
I came with Hermia hither : our intent 
Was to be gone from Athens, where we might 
160 Without the peril of the Athenian law. 

JEge. Enough, enough, my lord : you have 
enough : 
I beg the law, the law, upon his head. 
They would have stolen away ; they would, 

Demetrius, 
Thereby to have defeated you and me. 
You of your wife and me of my consent. 
Of my consent that she should be your wife. 

Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their 
stealth. 
Of this their purpose hither to this wood ; 
And I in fury hither followed them, 
170 Fair Helena in fancy following me. 

But, my good lord, I wot not by what power, — 



70 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

But by some power it is, — my love to Hermia, 
Melted as the snow, seems to me now 
As the remembrance of an idle gawd 
Which in my childhood I did dote upon ; 
And all the faith, the virtue of my heart, 
The object and the pleasure of mine eye. 
Is only Helena. To her, my lord, 
Was I betrothed ere I saw Hermia : 
iSo But, like a sickness, did I loathe this food ; 
But, as in health, come to my natural taste. 
Now I do wish it, love it, long for it, 
And will for evermore be true to it. 

TJie. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met : 
Of this discourse we more Avill hear anon. 
Egeus, I will overbear your Avill ; 
For in the temple, by and by, with us 
These couples shall eternally be knit : 
And, for the morning now is something worn, 
190 Our purposed hunting shall be set aside. 
Away with us to Athens ; three and three. 
We'll hold a feast in great solemnity. 
Come, Hippolyta. \^^xeunt The., Hip., 

Ege., and train. 

Dem. These things seem small and undistin- 
guishable. 
Like far-off mountains turned into clouds. 

Ser. Methinks I see these things with parted 
eye. 
When everything seems double. 

SeL So methinks : 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S BREAM 71 

And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, 
Mine own, and not mine own. 

Dem. Are you sure 

200 That we are awake ? It seems to me 

That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not 3^ou tliink 
The duke was here, and bid us follow him ? 

Her. Yea ; and my father. 

ffel. And Hippolyta. 

Li/s. And he did bid us follow to the temple. 

Dem. Why, then, we are awake : let's follow 
him : 
And by the way let us recount our dreams. 

\_^xeunt. 

Bot. [Awakini/]^ When my cue comes, call me, 
and I will answer : my next is, " Most fair Pyra- 
mus." Heigh-ho! Peter Quince ! Flute, the bel- 
2IO lows-mender ! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! 
God's my life, stolen lience, and left me asleep ! 
I have had a most rare vision. I have had a 
dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it 
was : man is but an ass, if he go about to expound 
this dream. Methought I was — there is no man 
can tell what. Methought I was, — and methought 
I had, — but man is but a patched fool, if he will 
offer to say what methought I had. The eye of 
man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, 
220 man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to con- 
ceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. 
I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this 
dream : it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because 



72 HAWTIIORNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

it hath 110 bottom ; and I will sing it in the latter 
end of a play, before the duke : perad venture, to 
make it the more gracious, 1 shall sing it at her 
death. [Uxit. 

Scene II. Athens. Quince's house 
Miter Quince, Flute, Snout, and Starveling 

Quin. Have you sent to Bottom's house? is he 
come home yet? 

Star. He cannot be heard, of. Out of doubt he 
is transported. 

Flu. If he come not, then the play is marred : 
it goes not forward, doth it? 

Quin. It is not possible : you have not a man in 
all Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he. 

Flu. No, he hath simply the best wit of any 
10 handicraft man in Athens. 

Quin. Yea, and the best person too. 

Fnter Snug 

Snug. Masters, the duke is coming from the 
temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies 
more married : if our sport had gone forward, we 
had all been made men. 

Flu. O sweet bully Bottom ! Thus hath he lost 
sixpence a day during his life ; he could not have 
'scaped sixpence a day : an the duke had not given 
him sixpence a day for playing Pyramus, I'll be 
2o hanged; he would have deserved it: sixpence a 
day in Pyramus, or nothing. 



Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 73 

Miter Bottom 

Bot. Where are these lads? where are these 
hearts ? 

Quin. Bottom ! O most courageous day ! O 
most happy hour ! 

Bot. ]Masters, I am to discourse wonders : but 
ask me not what ; for if I tell you, I am no true 
Athenian. I will tell you everything, right as it 
fell out. 
30 Qiim. Let us hear, sweet Bottom. 

Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell 
you is, that the duke hath dined. Get your ap- 
parel together, good strings to your beards, new 
ribbons to your pumps ; meet presently ^ at the 
palace ; every man look o'er his part ; for the short 
and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, 
let Thisby have clean linen ; and let not him that 
plays the lion pare his nails, for they shall hang 
out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, 
40 eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet 
breath ; and I do not doubt but to hear them say, 
it is a sweet comedy. No more words : away ! go, 
away ! \_Uxeunto 



74 HAWTHOliNE CLASSICS [Act V 

ACT V 

Scene I. Athens. The i^alace of Theseus 

^>ifer Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostkatp:, Lords, 
and Attendants 

Hip. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these 

lovers speak of. 
The, More strange than true : I never may 
believe 
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. 
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, 
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend 
More than cool reason ever comprehends. 
The lunatic, the lover and the poet 
Are of imagination all compact.^ 
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, 
o That is, the madman : the lover, all as frantic, 
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt : 
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 

1 This is one of the speeches from Shakespeare which are remem- 
bered and quoted, but often without recollection of the conditions. 
It is to be remarked that the words are put in the mouth of 
Theseus the strong and successful man of action. To him it was 
all the same if one were lunatic, lover, or poet : he looked at the 
matter as the business man of to-day would. That there can be 
truth at the bottom of the poet's vision or of the lover's frenzy is 
quite as impossible to him as that it should be in the ramblings of 
the lunatic. He pays no more attention to them than Caesar does 
to the soothsayer in Julius Csesur. Even when Hippo lyta gives 
him real reason for believing, he has nothing to say but changes the 
subject. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMEB-NIGHT' S DREAM 75 

Dotli glance from heaven to earth, from earth to 

heaven ; 
And as miagination bodies forth 
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing 
A local habitation and a name. 
Such tricks hath strong imagination. 
That, if it would but apprehend some joy, 
20 It comprehends some bringer of that joy ; 
Or in the night, imagining some fear. 
How easy is a bush supposed a bear ! 

Hip. But all the story of the night told over, 
And all their minds transfigured so together, 
More ^ witnesseth than fancy's images 
And grows to something of great constancy ; 
But, howsoever, strange and admirable. 

The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. 

Enter Lysander, Demetkius, Hermia, and 
Helena 

Joy, gentle friends I joy and fresh days of love 
30 Accompany your hearts ! 

Lys. More than to us 

Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed ! 
The. Come now; what masques,^ what dances 
shall we have. 
To wear away this long age of three hours 

1 More is the indirect object of witnesseth, not an adverbial 
modifier. 

2 The masque was the elaborate private dramatic entertainment 
of the day. 



76 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

Between our after-supper and bed-time ? 
Where is our usual manager of mirth? 
What revels are in hand ? Is there no play, 
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour ? 
Call Philostrate. 

Phil. Here, mighty Theseus. 

The. Say, what abridg;nent have you for this 
evening? 
40 What masque ? what music ? How shall we beguile 
The lazy time, if not with some delight? 

Phil. There is a brief how many sports are ripe : 
Make choice of which your highness wdll see first. 

[Criving a paper. 
The. [^Reads'] " The battle with the Centaurs, 
to be sung 
By an Athenian eunuch to the harp." 
We'll none of that : that have I told my love, 
In glory of my kinsman Hercules. 
[^Reads'] '' The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, 
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage." 
50 That is an old device ; and it was played 
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. 
\_Reads~\ " The thrice three ^Nluses mourning for 

the death 
Of Learning, late deceased in beggary." 
That is some satire, keen and critical. 
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. 
[Reads] " A tedious brief scene of young Pyra- 

mus 
And his love Thisbe ; very tragical mirth." 



Scene I] A MIBSUMMER-NIGHT' S BREAM 11 

Merry and tragical ! tedious and brief ! 
That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow. 
60 How shall we find the concord of this discord? 

Phil. A play there is, my lord, some ten words 
long, 
Which is as brief as I have known a play ; 
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long. 
Which makes it tedious ; for in all the play 
There is not one word apt, one player fitted : 
And tragical, my noble lord, it is ; 
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. 
Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess. 
Made mine eyes water ; but more merry tears 
70 The passion of loud laughter never shed. 

The. What are they that do play it ? 

Phil. Hard-handed men that work in Athens 
here. 
Which never labored in their minds till now, 
And now have toiled their unbreathed memories 
With this same play, against your nuptial. 

The. And we will hear it. 

Phil. No, my noble lord ; 

It is not for you : I have heard it over, 
And it is nothing, nothing in the world ; 
Unless you can find sport in their intents, 
80 Extremely stretched and conned with cruel j^ain. 
To do you service. 

The. I will hear that play ; 

For never anything can be amiss. 
When simpleness and duty tender it. 



78 IIAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act V 

Go, bring* them in : and take your places, ladies. 

[Uxit Philostkate. 
ffij). I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharged 
And duty in his service perishing. 

The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such 
thing. 
Hip. He says they can do nothing in this 

kind. 
The. The kinder we, to give them thanks for 
nothing. 
90 Our sport shall be to take Avhat they mistake : 
And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect 
Takes it in might, not merit. 
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed 
To greet me with premeditated welcomes ; ^ 
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, 
Make periods in the midst of sentences. 
Throttle their practiced accent in their fears 
And in conclusion dumbly have broke off, 
Xot paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet, 
too Out of this silence yet I pricked a Avelcome ; 
And in the modesty of fearful duty 
I read as much as from the rattling tongue 
Of saucy and audacious eloquence. 
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity 
In least speak most, to my capacity. 

1 The idea of Theseus met by an address of welcome by " great 
clerks " is one of Shakespeare's anachronisms. Shakespeare meant 
to give the idea of a great public man, one who knew the world 
and its ways. That this particular means would have beau un- 
known to Theseus did not trouble him. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGIIT' S DREAM 79 

Re-enter Philostrate 
Phil. So please your grace, the Prologue is 

addressed. 
The. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets. 

Enter Quince for the Prologue. ^ 
Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will. 

That you should think, we come not to offend, 
[o But with good will. To show our simple skill, 

That is the true beginning of our end. 
Consider then we come but in despite. 

We do not come as minding to content you, 
Our true intent is. All for your delight 

We are not here. That you should here repent 
you. 
The actors are at hand ; and by their show 
You shall know all that you are like to know. 

The. This fellow doth not stand upon points. 

Lys. He hath rid his prologue like a rough 

20 colt ; he knows not the stop. A good moral, my 

lord : it is not enough to speak, but to speak true. 

Hip. Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a 
child on a recorder ; a sound, but not in government. 

The. His speech was like a tangled chain ; 
nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next ? 

Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, 
and Lion 
Pro. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show ; 

1 Cf. IIL, i., 18. It lunst be noted (as Theseus remarks, 1. 118) 
that the puuctuatiou is iugeuiously wroug. 



80 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act-V 

But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. 
This man is Pyramus, if you would know ; 

This beauteous lady Thisby is certain. 
130 This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present 

Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers 
sunder ; 
And througli Wall's chink, poor souls, they are 
content 

To whisper. At the which let no man wonder. 
This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn, 

Presenteth Moonshine ; for, if you Avill know, 
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn 

To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. 
This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name. 
The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, 
140 Did scare away, or rather did affright ; 
And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall. 

Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. 
Anon comes Pyi-amus, sweet youth and tall. 

And finds his trusty Thisby 's mantle slain ; 
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade, 

He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast ; 
And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade. 

His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest. 
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain 
150 At large discourse, while here they do remain. 

[^Exeunt Prologue, Pyramus, Thisbe, 
Lion, ayid Moonshine. 
The. I wonder if the lion be to speak. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S BEE AM 81 

Beyn. No wonder, my lord : one lion may, when 
many asses do. 

Wall. In this same interlude it doth befall 
That I, one Snout by name, present a wall ; 
And such a wall, as I would have you think, 
That had in it a crannied hole or chink, 
Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, 
Did whisper often very secretly. 
This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show 
i6o That I am that same wall ; the truth is so : 
And this the cranny is, right and sinister. 
Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper. 

The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak 
better ? 

Bern. It is the wittiest partition that ever I 
heard discourse, my lord. 

Re-enter Pyramus 

The. Pyramus draws near the wall : silence ! 
Pyr. O grim-looked night ! O night with hue 
so black ! 

night, which ever art when day is not ! 
170 O night, O night ! alack, alack, alack, 

1 fear my Thisby's promise is forgot ! 
And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall. 

That stand'st between her father's ground and 
mine ! 
Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, 

Show me thy chink, to blink through with 
mine eyne ! [ Wall holds up his fingers. 



82 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

Thanks, courteous wall : Jove shield thee well for 
this ! 
But what see I ? No Thisby do I see. 

wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss ! 
Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me ! 

iSo The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should 
curse again. 

Pt/r. No, in truth, sir, he should not. ''Deceiv- 
ing me " is Thisby's cue : she is to enter now, and 

1 am to spy her through the wall. You shall see, 
it will fall pat as I told you. Yonder she comes. 

Re-enter Thisbe 

This. O wall, full often hast thou heard my 

moans. 
For parting ni}' fair Py ramus and me I 
My cherry lips have often kissed thy stones, 

Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee. 
190 Pyr. I see a voice : now wdll I to the chink, 

To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. 
Thisby ! 

Ihis. My love thou art, my love I think. 

Pyr. Think what thou wilt, I am th}' lover's 

grace ; 
And, like Limander,i am T trusty still. 

This. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill. 
Pyr. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true. 
This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you. 

1 Tbey have vague recollectioii of Hero aud Leauder, Cephalus 
and Procrifi, 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 83 

Pi/r. O, kiss me through the hole of this vile 
wall ! 
200 This. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at 
all. 
Pyr. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me 

straightway ? 
This. 'Tide life, 'tide death, I come without de- 
lay. lUxeunt Pyramus and Thisbe. 
Wall. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged 
so; 
And, being done, thus Wall away doth go. [Uxit. 
The. Now is the mural down between the two 
neighbors. 

Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so 
willful to hear without warning. 

ITip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I 
210 heard. 

The. The best in this kind are but shadows ; 
and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend 
them.i 

Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not 
theirs. 

The. If we imagine no worse of them than they 
of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. 
Here come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion. 

1 Here again is the opinion of tlie practical man, though often 
quoted as if it were Shakespeare's own. The remark of Hippolyta 
is more likely to have expressed his own idea; namely, that the 
imagination of the spectator is necessary to appreciation. It is 
not the dramatist who is to do it all, — a view which might he of 
value in considering some of the modern stagings of Shakespeare. 



84 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

Re-enter Lion and Moonshine 

Lion, You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do 

fear 

220 The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on 

floor, 

May now perchance both quake and tremble here, 

When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. 

Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am 

A lion-fell, nor else no lion's dam ; 

For, if I should as lion come in strife 

. ! 

Into this place, 'twere pity on my life. 

The. A very gentle beast, and of a good con- 
science. 

Bern. The very best at a beast, my lord, that 
230 e'er I saw. 

Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valor. 

The. True ; and a goose for his discretion. 

Deyii. Not so, my lord ; for his valor cannot 
carry his discretion ; and the fox carries the goose. 

The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his 
valor ; for the goose carries not the fox. It is 
well : leave it to his discretion, and let us listen 
to the moon. 

Moon. The lanthorn doth the horned moon pre- 
240 sent ; — 

Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head. 

The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisi- 
ble within the circumference. 

Moon. This lanthorn doth the horned moon pre- 
sent : 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT^ S BREAM 85 

Myself the man i' the moon do seem to be. 

The. This is the greatest error of all the rest : 
the man should be put into thelanthorn. How is 
it else the man i' the moon ? 
250 Dem. He dares not come there for the candle ; 
for, you see, it is already in snuff. 

Hip. I am aweary of this moon : would he 
would change ! 

The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, 
that he is in the wane ; but yet, in courtesy, in all 
reason, we must stay the time. 

Lys. Proceed, Moon. 

Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you 
that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the 
260 moon ; this thornbush, my thornbush ; and this 
dog, my dog. 

Bern. Why, all these should be in the lanthorn ; 
for all these are in the moon. But, silence 1 
here comes Thisbe. 

Re-enter Thisbe 

This. This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my 
love ? 

Lion. [Boaring^ Oh [Thisbp: runs off. 

Bern. Well roared, Lion. 
The. Well run, Thisbe. 
270 Hip. Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon 
shines with a good grace. 

\^The Lion shakes Thisbe's mantle^ and exit. 
The. Well moused, Lion. 



86 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act V 

Li/s. And so the lion vanished. 
Dem, And then came Pyramus. 

Re-enter Pyramus 

Pyr. Sweet moon, 1 thank thee for thy snnny 

beams ; 
I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright ; 
For, by thy gracious, goklen, glittering gleams, 
I trust to take of truest Thisby sight. 
But stay, O spite ! 
280 But mark, poor knight. 

What dreadful dole is here ! 
Eyes, do you see? 
How can it be ? 
O dainty duck ! O dear ! 
Thy mantle good. 
What, stained with blood ! 
Approach, ye Furies fell ! 
O Fates, come, come. 
Cut thread and thrum ; 
290 Quail, crush, conclude, and quell ! 

The. This passion, and the death of a dear 
friend, would go near to make a man look sad. 
Hip. BeshrcAV my heart, but I pity the man. 
Pyr. O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions 

frame ? 
Since lion vile hath here deflowered my dear : 
Which is — no, no — Avhich was the fairest dame. 
That lived, that loved, that liked, that looked 
with cheer. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 87 



Come, tears, confound ; 
Out, sword, and wound 
300 The pap of Py ramus ; 

Ay, that left pap. 

Where heart doth hop : [Stabs himself. 
Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. 
Now am I dead, 
Now am I fled ; 
My soul is in the sky : 
Tongue, lose thy light ; 
Moon, take thy flight : \_Exit Moonshine. 
Now die, die, die, die, die. \^Dies. 

3^0 Dem. No die, but an ace for him ; for he is but 
one. 

Lys. Less than an ace, man ; for he is dead : he 
is nothing. 

The. With the help of a surgeon he might yet 
recover, and prove an ass. 

Hip. How chance Moonshine is gone before 
Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? 

The. She will find him by starlight. Here she 
comes ; and her passion ends the play. 

Re-enter Thisbe 

320 Hip. Methinks she should not use a long one 
for such a Pyramus : I hope she will be brief. 

Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which 
Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better; he for 
a man, God warrant us; she for a woman, God 
bless us. 



88 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

Lj/s. She has spied him already with those 
sweet eyes. 

Dem. And thus she means, videlicet : — 
This. Asleep, my love? 
330 What, dead, my dove? 

O Pyramus, arise ! 

Speak, speak. Quite dumb? 
Dead, dead? A tomb 
Must cover thy sweet eyes. 
These lily lips, 
Tliis cherry nose. 
These yellow cowslip cheeks. 
Are gone, are gone : 
Lovers, make moan : 
340 His eyes were green as leeks. 

O Sisters three, 
Come, come to me. 
With hands as pale as milk ; 
Lay them in gore. 
Since you have shore 
With shears his thread of silk. 
Tongue, not a word 1 
Come, trusty sword ; 
Come, blade, my breast imbrue : [Stabs herself. 
350 And, farewell, friends ; 

Thus Thisby ends : 
Adieu, adieu, adieu. [Dies. 

The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the 
dead. 

Dem. Ay, and Wall too. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMEE-NIGHT' S BREAM 89 

Bot. [Starting up^ No, I assure you ; the wall 
is down that parted their fathers. Will it please 
you to see the epilogue,^ or to hear a Bergomask 
dance between two of our company? 

360 The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play 
needs no excuse. Never excuse ; for when the 
players are all dead, there need none to be 
blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had plaj^ed 
Pyramus and hanged himself in Thisbe's garter, 
it would have been a fine tragedy : and so it is, 
truly ; and very notably dischai'ged. But, come, 
your Bergomask : let your epilogue alone. 

\^A dance. 
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve : 
Lovers, to bed ; 'tis almost fairy time. 

370 I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn 
As much as we this night have overwatched. 
This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled 
The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed. 
A fortnight hold we this solemnity, • 
In nightly revels and new jollity. [Uxemit. 

Enter Puck 
Puck. Now the hungry lion roars. 

And the wolf behowls the moon ; 
Whilst the heavy plowman snores, 
All with weary task fordone. 
380 Now the wasted brands do glow, 

1 a speech like a prologue, but after the play. Theseus refuses 
Bottom's epilogue, but later on Puck delivers what is really an 
Epilogue to the whole play. 



90 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS Act V 

Whilst the screech-owl," screeching loud, 
Puts the wretch that lies in wo€ 

In remembrance of a shroud. 
Now it is the time of niofht 

That the graves all gaping wide, 
Every one lets forth his sprite, 

In the church-Avay paths to glide : 
And we fairies, that do run 

By the triple Hecate's team, 
390 From the presence of the sun, 

Following darkness like a dream, 
Now are frolic : not a mouse 

Shall disturb this hallowed house : 
I am sent with broom before. 
To sweep the dust behind the door. 

Enter Oberon and Titania ivith their train 

Ohe. Through the house give glimmering light. 
By the dread and drowsy fire : 
Every elf and fairy sjjrite 
Hop as light as bird from brier ; 
400 And this ditty, after me. 

Sing, and dance it trippingly. 

Tita. First, rehearse your song by rote. 
To each word a warbling note : 
Hand in hand, with fairy grace, 
Will we sing, and bless this place. 

[Song and dance. 

Ohe. Now, until the break of day. 

Through this house each fairy stj;ay. 



Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 91 

To the best bride-bed will we, 

Which by us shall blessed be ; 
4io And the issue there create 

Ever shall be fortunate. 

So shall all the couples three 

Ever true in loving be ; 

And the l)lots of Nature's hand 

Shall not in their issue stand ; 

Never mole, hare lip, nor scar, 

Nor mark prodigious, such as are 

Despised in nativity. 

Shall upon their children be. 
420 With this field-dew consecrate, 

Every fairy take his gait ; 

And each several chamber bless. 

Through this palace, with sweet peace ; 

And the owner of it blessed 

Ever shall in safety rest. 

Trip away; make no stay; 

Meet me all by break of day. 

[Exeunt Oberon, Titania, ayid train. 
Puck, If we shadows have offended. 

Think but this, and all is mended, 
430 That you have but slumbered here 

While these visions did appear. 

And this weak and idle theme. 

No more yielding but a dream. 

Gentles, do not reprehend : 

If you pardon, we Avill mend : 

And, as I am an honest Puck, 



92 IIAWTIIOBNE CLASSICS [ActV, Sc.I] 

If we have unearned luck 
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, 
We will make amends ere long ; 
440 Else the Puck a liar call : 

So, good night unto you all. 

Give me your hands,^ if we be friends. 

And Robin shall restore amends. \_Uxit. 

1 namely applause, then, as now, the actors great reward, and 
probably worth as much then as now. 



AS YOU LIKE IT 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 

DuKK, living in banishment. 

Frederick, his brother, and usurper of his dominions. 

' y lords attending on the banished duke. 
Jaques, J * 

Le Beau, a courtier attending upon Frederick. 

Charles, wrestler to Frederick. 

Oliver, -v 

Jaques, I sons of Sir Rowland de Boys. 

Orlando, J 

Adam, ") ../-.,• 

„ > servants to Oliver. 

Dennis, j 

Touchstone, a clown. 

Sir Oliver Martext, a vicar. 

CORIN, 



_ , shepherds. 

Silvius, j 

William, a country fellow, in love with Audrey. 

A person representing Hymen. 

Rosalind, daughter to the banished duke. 
Celia, daughter to Frederick. 
Phebe, a shepherdess. 
Audrey, a country wench. 

Lords, pages, and attendants, &c. 

Scene: Oliver's house; Duke Frederick's court; and the Forest 
of Arden. 



AS YOU LIKE IT 

ACT I 

Scene I. Orchard of Oliver's house ^ 
Enter Orlando and Adam ^ 

Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this 
fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand 
crowns, and, as thou say est, charged my brother, 
on his blessing, to breed me well : and there begins 
my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at 
school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit : 
for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to 
speak more properly, stays me here at home un- 
kept ; for call you that keeping for a gentleman 
10 of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of 
an ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides 
that they are fair with their feeding, they are 
taught their manage,^ and to that end riders dearly 

1 The first scene does not do quite as much as is often the case 
in giving us an idea of what the action of the phiy is to be. We 
have the idea of the quarrel between the brothers and also of the 
banished duke, but not much hint of what is to happen. 

■^ Adam is a character of some interest because it was the tradi- 
tion that the part was acted by Shakespeare liimself. 

3 or manege. The training, government, and exercise of "the 
great horse " was a matter of great interest in Shakespeare's day. 

1)5 



96 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

hired : but I, liis brother, gain nothing under him 
but growth ; for the which his animals on his 
dunofhills are as much bound to him as I. Besides 
this nothing that he so plentifull}^ gives me, the 
something that nature gave me his countenance 
seems to take from me : he lets me feed with his 
20 hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much 
as in him lies, mines my gentility with my educa- 
tion. This is it, Adam, that grieves me ; and the 
spirit of my father, which I think is within me, 
begins to mutiny against this servitude : I will no 
longer endure it, though yet I know no wise 
remedy how to avoid it. 

Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. 
Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how 
he will shake me up. 

Unter Oliver 

30 on. Now, sir ! what make you here ? 

Orl. Nothing : I am not taught to make any- 
thing. 

Oli. What mar you then, sir? 

Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that 
which God made, a poor unworthy brother of 
yours, with idleness. 

Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be 
naught awhile. 

Orl. Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with 
4 them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that 
I should come to such penury ? 



Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 97 

on. Know you where yon are, sir? 

Orl. O, sir, very well: here in your orchard. 

Oil. Know you before whom, sir? 

Orl. Aye, better than him I am before knows 
me. I know you are my eldest brother ; and, in 
the gentle condition of blood, you should so know 
me. The courtesy of nations allows you my bet- 
ter, in that you are the first-born ; but the same 
50 tradition takes not away my blood, were there 
twenty brothers betwixt us : I have as much of 
my father in me as you ; albeit, I confess, your 
coming before me is nearer to his reverence. 

OH. What, boy ! 

Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too 
young in this. 

Oil. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? 

Orl. I am no villain ; I am the youngest son of 
Sir Rowland de Boys ; he was my father, and he 
60 is thrice a villain that says such a father begot 
villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not 
take this hand from thy throat till this other had 
pulled out thy tongue for saying so : thou hast 
railed on thyself. 

Ada7n. Sweet masters, be patient : for your 
father's remembrance, be at accord. 

Oli. Let me go, I say. 

Orl. I will not, till I please : you shall hear me. 

My father charged you in his will to give me good 

70 education; you have trained me like a peasant, 

obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like 



98 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong 
in me, and I will no longer endure it : therefore 
allow me such exercises as may become a gentle- 
man, or give me the poor allottery my father left me 
by testament ; with that I will go buy my fortunes. 

on. And what wilt thou do? beg, Avhen that 
is spent? Well, sir, get j^ou in: I Avill not long 
be troubled with you ; you shall have some part 
80 of your will : I pray jou, leave me. 

0)'L I will no further offend you than becomes 
me for my good. 

on. Get you witli him, you old dog. 

Adam. Is " old dog " my reward ? Most true, 
I have lost my teeth in your service. God be with 
my old master ! he would not have spoke such a 
word. \_Uxeunt Orlando and Adam. 

Oli. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon 
me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give no 
90 thousand crowns neither.^ Holla, Dennis! 

Unter Dennis 

Den. Calls your worship? 

Oil. Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here 
to speak with me? 

Den. So please you, he is here at the door and 
importunes access to 3'ou. 

Oli. Call him in. [.Exit Dennis.] 'Twill be 
a good way ; and to-morrow the wrestling is. 
Unter Charles 

Oha. Good morrow to your worship. 

1 1 will mauage you without giving what the will deniauds. 



Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 99 

OU. Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new 
100 news at the new court? 

Cha. There is no news at the court, sir, but 
the old news : that is, the old duke is banished 
by his younger brother the new duke ; ^ and three 
or four loving lords have put themselves into vol- 
untary exile with him, whose lands and revenues 
enrich the new duke ; therefore he gives them 
good leave to w^ander. 

OH. Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's 
dauo-hter, be banished with her father? 
no Oha. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her 
cousin, so loves her, being ever from their cradles 
bred together, that she would have followed her 
exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at 
the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than 
his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as 
they do. 

OU. Where will the old duke live? 

Cha. They say he is already in the forest of 
Arden, and a many merry men with him ; and 
120 there they live like the old Robin Hood of Eng- 
land : they say many young gentlemen flock to 
him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as 
the}^ did in the golden world.^ 

1 The brothers in higher station seem to get along no better than 
those in lower. 

2 The golden age in the reign of Saturn was the fabled time 
when all goodness ruled and evil was unknown. Cf. Gonzalo's 
Commonwealth in the Tempest, II., i., 149-170, especially the last 
line. 

L.cfC. 



100 11 AWT HOB NE CLASSICS [Act I 

Oil. What, you wrestle to-morrow before tlie 
new duke? 

Cha. Marry, do I, sir ; and I came to acquaint 
you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to 
understand that your younger brother Orlando 
hath a disposition to come in disguised against 

130 me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I Avrestle for 
my credit; and he that escapes me without some 
broken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother 
is but young and tender ; and, for your love, I 
would be loath to foil liim, as I must, for my own 
honor, if he come in : therefore, out of my love to 
you, I came hither to acquaint you withal, that 
either you might stay him from his intendment or 
brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in 
that it is a thing of his own search and altogether 

140 against my will. 

Oli. Charles, I thank thee for tliy love to me, 
which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. 
I had myself notice of m}^ brother's purpose 
herein and have by underhand means labored 
to dissuade him from it, but he is resolute. I'll 
tell thee, Charles : it is the stubbornest young 
fellow of France, full of ambition, an envious 
emulator of every man's good parts, a secret 
and villainous contriver against me his natural 

150 brother: therefore use thy discretion; I had as 
lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. 
And thou wert best look to 't ; for if thou dost 
him any slight disgrace or if he do not mightily 



Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 101 

grace himself on thee, he will practice against 
thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous 
device and never leave thee till he hath ta'en 
thy life by some indirect means or other ; for, I 
assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, 
there is not one so young and so villainous this 

i6o day living. I speak but brotherly of him ; but 
should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must 
blush and weep and thou must look pale and 
wonder. 

Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. 
If he come to-morrow, Fll give him his payment : 
if ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for 
prize more : and so God keep your worship ! 

OH. Farewell, good Charles, [^^f^ Charles.] 
Now will I stir this gamester : I hope I shall see 

170 an end of him ; for my soul, yet I know not why, 
hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle, 
never schooled and yet learned, full of noble 
device, of all sorts enchantingly beloved, and 
indeed so much in the heart of the world, and 
especially of my own people, who best know 
him, that I am altogether misprised : but it 
shall not be so long 5 this wrestler shall clear 
all : nothing remains but that I kindle the boy 
thither; which now I'll go about. \_Exit. 



102 IIAWTHOliNE CLASSICS [Act I 

Scene II. Lawn befor-e the Duke's jmlace. 
Enter Celia mid Rosalind 

Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be 
merry. 

Ros, Dear Celia, I shoAV more mirth than I am 
mistress of ; and would you yet I Avere merrier ? 
Unless you could teach me to forget a banished 
father, you must not learn ^ me how to remember 
any extraordinary pleasure. 

Cel. Herein I see thou lovest me not Avith the 
full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy 
lo banished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke 
my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I 
could have taught my love to take thy father 
for mine : so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy 
love to me were so righteously tempered as mine 
is to thee. 

Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my 
estate, to rejoice in yours. 

Cel. You know my father hath no child but I, 
nor none is like to have : and, truly, when he 
20 dies, thou shalt be his heir, for what he hath 
taken away from thy father perforce, I will 
render thee again in affection ; by mine honor, 
I will ; ^ and Avhen I break that oath, let me 

1 used ill the old sense of teach, which has now passed out of use 
save among the uneducated. 

^ Celia was not so practical a person as Rosalind, as we shall 
see, and it may be that she really fancied that this was a possible 
solution, just as she doubtless would have caught Charles by the 
leg (1. 218) had she been able. 



Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 103 

turn monster : therefore, my sweet Rose, my 
dear Rose, be merry. 

Hos. From liencefortli I will, coz, and devise 
sports. Let me see ; what think you of falling 
in love? 

Oel. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal ; 
30 but love no man in good earnest ; nor no further 
in sport neither than with safety of a pure blush 
thou mayest in honor come off again. 

Bos. Wliat shall be our sport, then? 

Oel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife 
Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may 
henceforth be bestowed equally. 

Mos. I would we could do so, for her benefits 
are mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind 
woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women, 
40 Cel. 'Tis true ; for those that she makes fair 
she scarce makes honest, and those that she makes 
honest she makes very ill-favoredly. 

Mos. Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's oftice 
to Nature's : Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, 
not in the lineaments of Nature. 

Ente7^ Touchstone 

Oel. No? when Nature hath made a fair crea- 
ture, may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? 
Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at 
Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to 
50 cut off the argument ? 

Bos. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for 



104 ITAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

Nature, Avlien Fortune makes Nature's natural^ 
the cutter-off of Nature's Avit. 

Cel. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work 
neither, but Nature's ; who perceiving our natu- 
ral wits too dull to reason of such goddesses liath 
sent this natural for our wlietstone ; for always 
the dullness of the fool is tlie Avlietstone of the 
wits. How now, Avit ! Avliither Avander you? 
60 Touch. Mistress, you nuist come away to your 
fatlier. 

Oel. Were you made the messenger? 

Touch. No, by mine honor, but I Avas bid to 
come for you. 

Mos. Where learned you that oath, fool? 

Touch. Of a certain knight that sAvore by his 

honor they were good pancakes and SAVore by his 

honor the mustard was naught : noAV I'll stand to 

it, the pancakes Avere naught and the mustard Avas 

70 good, and yet Avas not the knight forsAvorn. 

Oel. How prove you that, in the great heap of 
3^our knoAvledge ? 

Bos. Ay, marry, uoav unmuzzle your wisdom. 

Touch. Stand you both forth now : stroke your 
chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. 

Cel. By our beards, if Ave had them, thou art. 

Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I Avere ; 

but if you swear by that that is not, you are not 

forsworn : no more Avas this knight, SAvearing by 

80 his honor, for he never had any ; or if he had, he 

1 idiot ; although Touchstone was by no means idiotic. 



Scene II] AS YOU LIKE ITf 105 

had sworn it away before ever he saw those pan- 
cakes or that mustard. 

Cel. Prithee, who is't that thou meanest? 

Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, 
loves. 

Cel. My father's love is enough to honor liim 
enough : speak no more of him ; you'll be whipped 
for taxation ^ one of these days. 

Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak 
90 wisely what wise men do foolishly. 

Cel. By my troth, thou sayest true ; for since 
the little wit that fools have was silenced, the 
little foolery that wise men have makes a great 
show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. 

Ros. With his mouth full of news. 

Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed 
their young. 

Ros. Then shall we be news-crammed. 

Cel. All the better ; we shall be the more 
100 marketable. 

Enter \m Beau 

Bon jour. Monsieur Le Beau : what's the news? 

Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much 
good sport. 

Cel. Sport! of what color? 

Le Beau. What color, madam ! how shall I 
answer you? 

Ros. As wit and fortune will. 

Touch. Or as the Destinies decree. 

1 satire. 



106 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

Cel. Well said : that was laid on with a trowel, 
no Touch. Nay, if 1 keep not my rank, — 

Bos. Thou losest thy old smell. 

Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies : I would have 
told you of good wrestling, which you have lost 
the sight of. 

Bos. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. 

Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning ; and 
if it please your ladyships, you may see the end ; 
for the best is yet to do ; and here, where you 
are, they are coming to perform it. 
120 Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and 
buried. 

Le Beau. There comes an old man and his 
three sons, — 

Cel. I could match this beginning with an old 
tale. 

Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent 
growth and presence. 

Bos. With bills on their necks, " Be it known 
unto all men by these presents." 
130 Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with 
Charles, the duke's wrestler ; which Charles in a 
moment threw him and broke three of his ribs, 
that there is little hope of life in him : so he served 
the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie ; 
the poor old man, their father, making such piti- 
ful dole over them that all the beholders take his 
part with weeping. 

Bos. Alas! 



Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 107 

Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that 
140 the hidies have lost ? 

Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. 

Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day : 
it is the first time that ever I heard breaking of 
ribs was sport for Ladies. 

Cel. Or I, I promise thee. 

Hos. But is there any else longs to see this 
broken music in his sides ? is there yet another 
dotes upon rib-breaking ? Shall we see this wrest- 
ling, cousin ? 
150 Le Beau. You must, if you stay here ; for here 
is the place aj^pointed for the wrestling, and they 
are ready to perform it. 

Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming : let us now 
stay and see it. 

Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Or- 
lando, Charles, and Attendants 

Duke F. Come on : since the youth will not be 
entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. 

Ros. Is yonder the man ? 

Le Beau. Even he, madam. 

Cel. Alas, he is too young ! yet he looks suc- 
160 cessfully. 

Duke F. How now, daughter and cousin ! are 
you crept hither to see the wrestling ? 

Ros. Aye, my liege, so please you give us leave. 

Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can 
tell you ; there is such odds in the man. In pity 



108 HAWTUOENE CLASSICS [Act I 

of the challenger's youth T would fain dissuade 
him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him 
ladies; see if you can move him. 

Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. 
170 Duke F. Do so : I'll not be by. 

Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the prin- 
cess call for you. 

Orl. I attend them with all respect and duty. 

Bos. Young man, have you challenged Charles 
the wrestler ? 

Orl. No, fair princess ; he is the general chal- 
lenger : I come but in, as others do, to try with 
him the strength of my youth. 

Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too 
180 bold for 3^our years. You have seen cruel proof 
of this man's strength : if you saw yourself with 
your eyes or knew yourself with your judgment, 
the fear of your adventure would counsel you to 
a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your 
own sake, to embrace your own safety and give 
over this attempt. 

Bos. Do, young sir ; your reputation shall not 
therefore be misprised ; we will make it our suit to 
the duke that the wrestling might not go forward. 
190 Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your 
hard thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty, 
to deny so fair and excellent ladies anything. 
But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with 
me to my trial : wherein if I be foiled, there is 
but one shamed that was never gracious ; if killed. 



Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 109 

but one dead that is willing to be so : I shall do 
my friends no Avrong, for I have none to lament 
me, the world no injury, for in it I have nothing ; 
only in the world I fill up a place, which may be 
200 better supplied when I have made it empty. 

Bos. The little strength that I have, I would it 
were with you. 

Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. 

Eos. Fare you well : pray heaven I be deceived 
in you ! 

Cel. Your heart's desires be with you ! 

Cha. Come, where is this young gallant that is 
so desirous to lie with his mother earth ? 

Orl. Ready, sir ; but his will hath in it a more 
2IO modest working. 

Biike F, You shall try but one fall. 

Cha. No, I warrant your grace, you shall not 
entreat him to a second, that have so mightily 
persuaded him from a first. 

Orl. An you mean to mock me after, you should 
not have mocked me before ; but come your ways. 

Bos. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man ! 

Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the 
strong fellow by the leg. \_Wrestle. 

220 Bos. O excellent young man ! 

Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can 
tell who should down. [SJwut. Charu^s is throw7io 

Duke F. No more, no more. 

Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace: I am not yet 
well breathed. 



110 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

Duke F. How dost thou, Charles ? 
Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. 
Duke F. Bear him away. What is thy name, 
young man ? 
230 Orl. Orlando, my liege ; the youngest son of 
Sir Rowland de Boys. 

Duke F. I would thou hadst been son to some 
man else : 
The world esteemed thy father honorable, 
But I did find him still mine enemy : 
Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this 

deed, 
Hadst thou descended from another house. 
But fare thee well ; thou are a gallant youth : 
I would thou hadst told me of another father. 

[Exeunt Duke Fred., train, and Le Beau. 
Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this ? 
240 Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son. 
His 3^oungest son, — and would not change that 

calling. 
To be adopted heir to Frederick. 

Ros. My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul. 
And all the world was of my father's mind : 
Had I before known this young man his son, 
I should have given him tears unto entreaties, 
Ere he should thus have ventured. 

Cel. Gentle cousin. 

Let us go thank him and encourage liim : 
My father's rough and envious disposition 
250 Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserved : 



Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 111 

If you do keep your promises in love 

But justly, as you have exceeded all promise, 

Your mistress shall be happy. 

Mos. Gentleman, 

\_G-iving him a chain fi'om her neck. 
Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune. 
That could give more, but that her hand lacks 

means. 
Shall we go, coz ? 

Cel. Aye. Fare you v^ell, fair gentleman. 

Orl. Can I not say, I thank you ? My better 
parts 
Are all thrown down, and that which here stands 

up 
Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. 
260 Ros. He calls us back : my pride fell with my 
fortunes ; 
I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir ? 
Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown 
More than your enemies. 

Cel. Will you go, coz ? 

Ros. Have with you. Fare you well. 

\_Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. 
Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon 
my tongue ? 
I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. 
O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown ! 
Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. 

Re-enter Le Beau 
Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you 



112 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

270 To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved 
High commendation, true applause and love, 
Yet such is now the duke's condition 
That he misconstrues all that you have done. 
The duke is humorous ^ ; what he is indeed. 
More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. 
Orl. I thank you, sir: and, pray you, tell me 
this ; 
Which of the two was daughter of the duke 
That here was at the wrestling ? 

Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by 
manners ; 

280 But yet. indeed the lesser is his daughter : 
The other is daughter to the banished duke. 
And here detained by her usurping uncle. 
To keep his daughter company ; whose loves 
Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. 
But I can tell you that of late this duke 
Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece, 
Grounded upon no other argument 
But that the people praise her for her virtues 
And pity her for her good father's sake ; 

290 And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady 
Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well : 

1 fanciful. The four humors were, m the old physiology, the 
four moistures that were imagined to be in man's body, and ac- 
cording as one or another prevailed so was his disposition of one 
or another character. Hence humor came to mean "general dis- 
position," and in the time of Shakespeare it was used for any 
especial mood, particularly those that were whimsical. Thus the 
adjective was apt to mean whimsical, fanciful, unreasonable. 



Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 113 

Hereafter, in a better world than this, 
I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. 
Orl. I rest much bounden to you : fare you 
well. [Uxit Le Beau. 

Thus must I from the smoke into the smother ; 
From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother : 
But heavenly Rosalind ! \_Exif. 

Scene III. A room in the palace 
Enter Celia and Rosalind 

Cel. Why, cousin ! Why, Rosalind ! Cupid 
have mercy ! not a word ? 

Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. 

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast 
away upon curs ; throw some of them at me ; come, 
laip^^ me with reasons. 

Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up ; 
when the one should be lamed with reasons and 
the other mad without any. 
10 Cel. But is all this for your father ? 

Ros. No, some of it is for my child's father. 
O, how full of briers is this working-day world I 

Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon 
thee in holiday foolery : if we walk not in the 
trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. 

Ros. I could shake them off my coat: these 
burs are in my heart. 

Cel. Hem them away. 

Ros. I would try, if I could cry ''hem " and have 
20 him. 



114 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy aifections. 

Mos. O, they take the part of a better wrestler 
than myself ! 

Cel. O, a good wish upon you ! you w^ill try in 
time, in despite of a fall. But, turning these jests 
out of service, let us talk in good earnest: is it 
possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so 
strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest 
son? 
30 Ros. The duke my father loved his father dearly. 

Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should 
love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I 
should hate him, for my father hated his father 
dearly ^ ; yet I hate not Orlando. 

Bos. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. 

Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve 
well? 

Bos. Let me love him for that, and do you love 
him because I do. Look, here comes the duke. 
40 Cel. With his eyes full of anger. 

Unte?' Duke Frederick, ivith Lords 

Duke F. Mistress, dispatch you with your 
safest haste 
And get you from our court. 

Bos. Me, uncle? 

Duhe F. You, cousin : 

Within these ten daj^s if that thou be'st found 

1 Dear used to refer not merely to affectionate regard, but to 
almost any intense feeling. 



Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 115 

So near our public court as twenty miles, 
Thou diest for it. 

Bos. I do beseech your grace, 

Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me : 
If with myself I hold intelligence 
Or have acquaintance with mine own desires, 
If that I do not dream or be not frantic, — 
50 As I do trust I am not — then, dear uncle. 
Never so much as in a thought unborn 
Did I offend your highness. 

Duke F. Thus do all traitors : 

If their purgation did consist in words. 
They are as innocent as grace itself : 
Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. 

Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a 
traitor : 
Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. 

Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter ; there's 
enough. 

Ros, So was I when your highness took his 
dukedom ; 
60 So was I when your highness banished him : 
Treason is not inherited, my lord ; 
Or, if we did derive it from our friends. 
What's that to me ? my father was no traitor : 
Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much 
To think my poverty is treacherous. 

Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. 

DukeF. Ay, Celia; we stayed her for your sake. 
Else had she with her father ranged along. 



116 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay ; 
70 It was your pleasure and your own remorse : 
I was too young that time to value her ; 
But now I know her : if she be a traitor, 
Why so am I ; we still ^ have slept together, 
Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together. 
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, 
Still we went coupled and inseparable. 

Duke F. She is too subtle for thee ; and her 
smoothness. 
Her very silence and her patience 
Speak to the people, and they pity her. 
80 Thou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name ; 
And thou wilt show more bright and seem more 

virtuous 
When she is gone. Then open not thy lips : 
Firm and irrevocable is my doom 
Which I have passed upon her ; she is banished. 
Oel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my 
liege. 
I cannot live out of her company. 

Duke F, You are a fool. You, niece, provide 
yourself : 
If you outstay the time, upon mine honor, 
And in the greatness of my word, you die. 

[^Exeunt Duke Fkederick and Lords. 

90 Cel. O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go ? 

Wilt thou change fathers ? I will give thee mine. 

I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am. 

1 eontmually. 



Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 117 

Mos. I have more cause. 

Oel. Thou hast not, cousin : 

Prithee, be cheerful : know'st thou not, the duke 
Hath banished me, his daughter ? 

Hos. That he hath not. 

Cel. No, hath not ? Rosalind lacks then the love 
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one : 
Shall we be sundered? shall we part, sweet girl? 
No : let my father seek another heir. 
roo Therefore devise with me how we may fly. 
Whither to go and what to bear with us ; 
And do not seek to take your change upon you, 
To bear your griefs 3^ourself and leave me out ; 
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale. 
Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. 

Bos. Why, whither shall we go ? 

Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. 
.Eos. Alas, what danger will it be to us, 
, Maids as we are, to travel forth so far ! 
no Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. 

Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire 
And with a kind of umber smirch my face ; 
The like do you : so shall we pass along 
And never stir assailants. 

Mos. Were it not better. 

Because that I am more than common tall. 
That I did suit me all points like a man ? ^ 

i This was a favorite device of Sliakespeare's ; witness Julia, 
Portia, Viola, Imogen. It may perhaps be that it was suggested to 
him by the fact that as his girls were all acted by boys there was 
a sort of piquancy in having them in boys' clothes. 



118 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I, Sc. Ill 

A gallant curtle-ax upon my thigh, 
A boar-spear in my hand ; and — in my heart 
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will — 
t2o We'll have a swashing and a martial outside, 
As many other mannish coAvards have 
That do outface it with their semblances. 

Oel. What shall I call thee when thou art a 
man? 

Hos. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own 
page ; 
And therefore look you call me Ganymede. 
But what will you be called ? 

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my 
state ; 
No longer Celia, but Aliena. 

Mos. But, cousin, what if we assayed to steal 
[30 The clownish fool out of your father's court ? 
Would he not be a comfort to our travel ? 

Oel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me ; 
Leave me alone to avoo him. Let's away. 
And get our jewels and our wealth together. 
Devise the fittest time and safest way 
To hide us from pursuit that Avill be made 
After my flight. Now go we in content 
To liberty and not to banishment. \_Exeu7it. 



AcTlI, Sc. I] AS YOU LIKE IT 119 

ACT II 1 

Scene I. The Forest of Arden 

Enter Duke senior, Amiens, and tivo or three Lords, 
like foresters 

Duke S. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, 
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods 
More free from peril than the envious court ? 
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 
The seasons' difference, as the icy fang 
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind. 
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, 
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say 

10 " This is no flattery : these are counselors 
That feelingly persuade me what I am." 
Sweet are the uses of adversity, 
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; 
And this our life exempt from public haunt 
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks. 
Sermons in stones and good in every thing. 
I would not change it. 

Ami. Happy is your grace. 

That can translate the stubbornness of fortune 

20 Into so quiet and so sweet a style. 

1 This is the true beginuiug of the play ; what went before was 
like a prologue. 



120 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

Duke aS'. Come, shall we go and kill us venison ? 
And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, 
Being native burghers of this desert city. 
Should in their own confines with forked heads 
Have their round haunches gored. 

First Lord. Indeed, my lord, 

The melancholy Jaques ^ grieves at that, 
And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp 
Than doth your brother that hath banished you. 
To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself 

30 Did steal behind him as he lay along 
Under an oak whose antique root peeps out 
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood : 
To the which place a poor sequestered stag, 
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, 
Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord, 
The wretched animal heaved forth such groans 
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat 
Almost to bursting, and the big round tears 
Coursed one another down his innocent nose 

40 In piteous chase ; and thus the hairy fool. 
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, 
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, 
Augmenting it with tears. 

Duke S. But Avhat said Jaques ? 

Did he not moralize this spectacle ? 

First Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. 

1 Here, as in V., iv., 197, the meter shows that the name is a 
dissyllable. In other cases, as later in this speech, the name might 
be pronounced either with one syllable or two. 



Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 121 

First, for his weeping into the needless stream ; 
" Poor deer," quoth he, '^ thou makest a testament 
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more 
To that which had too much " : then, being there 
alone, 
50 Left and abandoned of his velvet friends, 
" 'Tis right " : quoth he, " thus misery doth part 
The flux of company " : anon a careless herd. 
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him 
And never stays to greet him ; " Aye," quoth 

Jaques, 
" Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens ; 
'Tis just the fashion : wherefore do you look 
• Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ? " 
Thus most invectively he pierceth through 
The body of the country, city, court, 
' 60 Yea, and of this our life, swearing that Ave 
Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what's worse, 
To fright the animals and to kill them up 
In their assigned and native dwelling-place. 

Duke S. And did you leave him in this con- 
templation ? 
Sec. Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com- 
menting 
Upon the sobbing deer. 

Duke S. Show me the place: 

I love to cope him in these sullen fits. 
For then he's full of matter. 

First Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. 

[^Uxeunt. 



122 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

Scene II. A room in the palace 

Enter DuKE Frederick, ivith Lords 

Duke F. Can it be possible that no man saw 
them ? 
It cannot be : some villains of my court 
Are of consent and sufferance in this. 

First Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see 
her. 
The ladies, her attendants of her chamber. 
Saw her a-bed, and in tlie morning early 
They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. 
Sec. Lord. My lord, the roynish ^ clown, at whom 
so oft 
Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. 
10 Hisperia, the princess' gentlewoman. 
Confesses that she secretly o'erheard 
Your daughter and her cousin much commend 
The parts and graces of the wrestler 
That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ; 
And she believes, wherever they are gone, 
That youth is surely in their company. 

Duke F. Send to his brother ; fetch that gallant 
hither ; 
If he be absent, bring his brother to me ; 
I'll make him find him : do this suddenly, 
20 And let not search and inquisition quail 

To bring again these foolish runaways. \^Exeunt. 

1 maugy : a term of contempt. 



Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT ^ 123 

Scene III. Before Oliver's house 
Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting 

Orl. Who's there? 

Adam. What, my young master ? O my gentle 
master ! 
O my sweet master ! O you memory 
Of old Sir Rowland ! why, wliat make you here ? 
Why are you virtuous? why do people love you? 
And wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant ? 
Why would you be so fond to overcome 
The bonny priser of the humorous duke ? 
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. 

10 Know you not, master, to some kind of men 
Their graces serve them but as enemies? 
No more do yours : your virtues, gentle master. 
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. 
O, what a world is this, when what is comely 
Envenoms him that bears it ! 
Orl. Why, what's the matter ? 
Adam. O unhappy youth ! 

Come not within these doors ; within this roof 
The enemy of all your graces lives : 
Your brother — no, no brother ; yet the son — 

20 Yet not the son, I will not call him son 
Of him I was about to call his father — 
Hath heard your praises, and this night he means 
To burn the lodging where you use to lie 
And you within it : if he fail of that. 



124 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

He will have other means to cut you off.^ 
1 overheard him and his practices. 
This is no place ; this house is but a butchery : 
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. 

Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have 
me go ? 
30 Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. 
Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg 
my food ? 
Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce 
A thievish living on the common road ? 
This I must do, or know not what to do : 
Yet this I will not do, do how I can ; 
I rather will subject me to the malice 
Of a diverted blood and bloody brother. 

Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred 
crowns. 
The thrifty hire I saved under your father, 
40 Which I did store to be my foster-nurse 
When service should in my old limbs lie lame 
And unregarded age in corners thrown : 
Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed. 
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow. 
Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ; 
All this I give you. Let me be your servant : 
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty ; 
For in my youth I never did apply 

1 This plot of Oliver's, of course, recoils upon his own head. If 
he had left Orlando to himself, the Duke would have dealt with 
him ; as it turns out, Orlando takes himself off and the Duke lays 
hold of Oliver. 



Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 125 

Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, 
50 Nor did not Avith unbashf ul forehead woo 
The means of weakness and debility ; 
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
Frosty, but kindly : ^ let me go with you ; 
ril do the service of a younger man 
In all your business and necessities. 

Orl. O good old man, how well in thee appears 
The constant service of the antique world, 
When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! 
Thou art not for the fashion of these times, 
60 Where none will sweat but for promotion, 
And having that, do choke their service up 
Even with the having : it is not so with thee. 
Bat, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree, 
That cannot so much as a blossom yield 
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. 
Bat come thy ways ; we'll go along together. 
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, 
Well light upon some settled low content. 
Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee, 
70 To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. 
From seventeen years till now almost fourscore 
Here lived I, but now live here no more. 
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek ; 
But at fourscore it is too late a week : 
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better 
Than to die well and not my master's debtor. 

lUxeunt. 

1 Not precisely in the modern sense, more like natural. 



126 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 



Scene IV. The Forest of Ardeii 

Enter Rosalind /or Ganymede, Celia for 
Alien A, and Touchstone 

Ros. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits ! 

Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were 
not weary. 

Ros. 1 could find in my heart to disgrace my 
man's apparel and to cry like a woman ; but I 
must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and 
hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat ; 
therefore courage, good Aliena I 

Cel. I pray you, bear Avith me ; I cannot go no 
lo further. 

Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you 
than bear you ; yet I should bear no cross if I did 
bear you, for I think you have no money in your 
purse. 

Ros. AVell, this is the forest of Arden. 

Touch. Aye, now am I in Arden ; the more fool 
I ; when I was at home, I was in a better place ; 
but travelers must be content. 

Ros. Aye, be so, good Touchstone. 

Enter Corin a7id SiLVius 

20 Look you, who comes here ; a young man and an 
old in solemn talk. 

Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you 
still. 



Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 127 

Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love 
her ! 

Oor. I partly guess ; for I have loved ere now. 

Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess. 
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover 
As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow : 
But if thy love were ever like to mine — 
As sure I think did never man love so — 
30 How many actions most ridiculous 

Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ? 

Co7\ Into a thousand that I have forgotten. 

Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er loA^e so heartily ! 
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly 
That ever love did make thee run into. 
Thou hast not loved : 
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now. 
Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, 
Thou hast not loved : 
40 Or if thou hast not broke from company 
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, 
Thou hast not loved. 
O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe ! ■ [Uxit. 

Mos. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy 
wound, I have by hard adventure found my own. 

Touch. And I mine. I remember, when I was 
in love I broke my sword upon a stone and bid 
him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile ; 
and I remember the kissing of her batlet and the 
50 cow's dugs tliat her pretty chopped hands had 
milked ; and 1 remember the wooing of a peascod 



128 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

instead of her, from whom I took two cods and, 
giving her them again, said with weeping tears, 
" Wear these for my sake." We that are true lov- 
ers run into strange capers ; but as all is mortal 
in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. 

Bos. Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware 
of. 

Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own 
00 wit till I break my shins against it. 

Hos. Jove, Jove ! this shepherd's passion 
Is much upon my fashion. 

Touch. And mine ; but it grows something stale 
with me. 

Oel. I pray you, one of you question yond man 
If he for gold will give us any food : 
I faint almost to death. 

Touch. Holla, you clown ! 

Bos. Peace, fool : he's not thy kinsman. 

Cor. Who calls ? 

Touch. Your betters, sir. 

Cor. Else they are very wretched. 

70 Bos. Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend. 

Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. 

Bos. I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold 
Can in this desert place buy entertainment. 
Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed : 
Here's a young maid with travel much oppressed 
And faints for succor. 

Cor. Fair sir, I pity her. 

And wish, for her sake more than for mine own. 



Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 129 

My fortunes were more able to relieve her ; 
But I am shepherd to another man 
80 And do not shear the fleeces that I graze : 
My master is of churlish disposition 
And little recks to find the way to heaven 
By doing deeds of hospitality : 
Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed 
Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now. 
By reason of his absence, there is nothing 
That you will feed on ; but what is, come see, 
And in my voice most welcome shall you be. 
Bos. What is he that shall buy his flock and 
pasture ? 
90 Cor. That young swain that you saw here but 
erewhile. 
That little cares for buying any thing. 

Bos. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,^ 
Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock. 
And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. 

Cel. And we will mend thy wages. I like this 
place. 
And willingly could waste my time in it. 

Cor. Assuredly the thing is to be sold : 
Go with me : if you like upon report 
The soil, the profit and this kind of life, 
100 I will your very faithful feeder be 

And buy it with your gold right suddenly. 

[^Uxeunt. 

1 fair dealing. 



130 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act 11 

Scene V. The forest 

Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others 

Song 

Ami. Under the greenwood tree 

Who loves to lie with me, 

And turn his merry note 

Unto the sweet bird's throat, 
Come hither, come hither, come hither : 

Here shall he see 

No enemy 
But winter and rough weather. 

Jaq. More, more, I prithee, more. 

Ami, It will make you melancholy. Monsieur 
Jaques. 

Jaq. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can 
suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks 
eggs. More, I prithee, more. 

Ami. My voice is ragged : I know I cannot 
please you. 

Jaq. I do not desire you to please me ; I do 
desire you to sing. Come, more ; another stanzo : 
call you 'em stanzos ? 

Ami. What you will. Monsieur Jaques. 

Jaq. Nay, 1 care not for their names ; they owe 
me nothing. Will you sing ? 

Ami. More at your request than to please my- 
self. 



Scene V] ^>S YOU LIKE IT 131 

Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll 
thank you ; but that they call compliment is like 
the encounter of two dog-apes, and when a man 
thanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a 
penny and he renders me the beggarly thanks. 
30 Come, sing : and you that will not, hold your 
tongues. 

Ami. Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the 
while ; the duke will drink under this tree. He 
hath been all this day to look you. 

Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. 
He is too disputable for my company ; I think of 
as many matters as he, but I give heaven thanks 
and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come. 

Song ^AU together here. 
Who doth ambition shun 
^o And loves to live i' the sun, 

Seeking the food he eats 
And pleased with what he gets. 
Come hither, come hither, come hither : 
Here shall he see 
No enemy 
But winter and rough weather. 
Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note that I 
made yesterday in despite of my invention. 
Ami. And I'll sing it. 
go Jaq. Thus it goes : — 

If it do come to pass 
That any man turn ass, 



132 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

Leaving his wealth and ease 

A stubborn will to please, 
Ducclame, ducdame, ducdame. 

Here shall he see 

Gross fools as he, 
An if he will come to me. 

Ami. What's that " ducdame " ? 
60 Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into 
a circle. I'll go sleep, if I can ; if I cannot, I'll 
rail against all the first-born of Egypt. 

A7ni. And I'll go seek the duke : his banquet is 
prepared. \_Exeunt severally. 

Scene VI. The forest 

Enter Orlando and Adam 

Adam. Dear master, I can go no further : O, I 
die for food ! Here lie I down, and measure out 
my grave. Farewell, kind master. 

Orl. Why, how now, Adam ! no greater heart 
in thee ? Live a little ; comfort a little ; cheer 
thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield any- 
thing savage, I will either be food for it or bring 
it for food to thee. Thy conceit ^ is nearer death 
than thy powers. For my sake be comfortable ; 
10 hold death awhile at the arm's end : I will here be 
with thee presently ; and if I bring thee not some- 
thing to eat, I will give thee leave to die : but if 
thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my 

1 thought. 



Scene VII] 



AS YOU LIKE IT 133 



labor. Well said ! thou lookest cheerly, and I'll 
be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest in the bleak 
air : come, I Avill bear thee to some shelter ; and 
thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there 
live anything in this desert. Cheerly, good 
Adam ! [Uxeunt. 

Scene VII. The forest 

A table set out. Enter Duke senior, Amiens, and 
Lords like outlaws 
Duke S. I think he be transformed into a 
beast ; 
For I can nowhere find him like a man. 

First Lord, My lord, he is but even now gone 
hence : 
Here was he merry, hearing of a song. 

Buke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, 
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. ^ 
Go, seek him : tell him I would speak with him. 

Enter Jaques 
First Lord. He saves my labor by his own 

approach. 
Buke S. Why, how now, monsieur ! what a life 
is this, 
LoThat your poor friends must woo your company? 
What, you look merrily ! 

1 The " music of the spheres" was an idea that grew out of the 
old astronomy. See p. 18, note 2. If Jaques becomes harmonious, 
it will be as unnatural as if the spheres should become discordant. 



134 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

Jaq. A fool, a fool ! I met a fool i' the forest, 
A motley fool ; a miserable world ! 
As I do live by food, I met a fool ; 
Who laid him down and basked him in the sun, 
And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms,^ 
In good set terms and yet a motley fool. 
" Good-morrow, fool," quoth 1. " No, sir," quoth he, 
" Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune: " 
20 And then he drew a dial from his poke. 
And, looking on it with lack-luster eye, 
Says very wisely, " It is ten o'clock : 
Thus we may see," quoth he, " how the world wags: 
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine. 
And after one hour more 't will be eleven ; 
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe. 
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; 
And thereby hangs a tale." When I did hear 
The motle}^ fool thus moral on the time, 
30 My lungs began to crow like chanticleer. 
That fools should be so deep-contemplative. 
And I did laugh sans intermission 
An hour by his dial. O noble fool ! 
A worthy fool ! Motley's the only wear. 

Duke S. What fool is this ? 

Jaq. O worthy fool ! One that hath been a 
courtier 
And says, if ladies be but young and fair. 
They have the gift to know it : and in his brain, 
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit 

1 He was ouly following the example of Rosalind aud Celia. 



Scene VII] AS YOU LIKE IT 135 

40 After a voyage, he hath strange phices crammed 
With observation, the which he vents 
In mangled forms. O that I were a fool ! 
I am ambitious for a motley coat. 
J)uke S. Thou shalt have one. 
Jaq. It is my only suit ; 

Provided that you weed your better judgments 
Of all opinion that grows rank in them 
That I am wise. I must have liberty 
Withal, as large a charter as the wind, 
50 To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have ; 
And they that are most galled Avith my folly, 
They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they 

so? 
The " why " is plain as way to parish church : 
He that a fool doth very wisely hit 
Doth very foolishly, although he smart. 
Not to seem senseless of the bob : if not. 
The wise man's folly is anatomized 
Even by the squandering glances of the fool. 
Invest me in my motley ; give me leave 
60 To speak my mind, and I will through and through 
Cleanse the foul body of the infected world. 
If they will patiently receive my medicine. 

Duke S. Fie on thee ! I can tell what thou 

wouldst do. 
Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do but good? 
Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin: 
For thou thyself hast been a libertine, 
As sensual as the brutish sting itself ; 



136 IIAWTTIOBNE CLASSICS [Act II 

And all the enihossed sores and headed evils, 
That thou with license of free foot hast caught, 
Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. 

70 Jaq. Why, who cries out on })ride, 
That can therein tax any private party? 
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea. 
Till that the wearer's very means do ebb? 
What woman in the city do I name. 
When that I say the city-woman bears 
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? 
Who can come in and say that I mean her. 
When such a one as she such is her neighbor? 
Or what is he of basest function 

80 That says his bravery is not on my cost. 
Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits 
His folly to the mettle of my speech ? 
There then; how then? what then? Let me see 

wherein 
My tongue hath wronged him : if it do him right, 
Then he hath wronged himself ; if he be free, 
Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, 
Unclaimed of any man. But who comes here ? 

Enter Orlando, ^vith Ms sivord draiv7i 

Orl. Forbear, and eat no more. 
Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet. 

Orl. Nor shalt thou, till necessity be served. 
90 Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of ? 
Duke S. Art thou thus boldened, man, by thy 
distress, 



Scene VII] AS YOU LIKE IT 137 

Or else a rude despiser of good miiiiiiers, 
That in civility thou seem'st so empty? 

Orl. You touched my vein at first ; the thorny 
point 
Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show 
Of smooth civility : yet am I inland bred ^ 
And know some nurture. But forbear, I say : 
He dies that touches any of this fruit 
Till I and my affairs are answered. 
oo Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, 
I must die. 
Duke S. What would you have ? Your gentle- 
ness shall force 
More than your force move us to gentleness. 

Orl. 1 almost die for food ; and let me have it. 
Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our 

table. 
Orl. Speak you so gently ? Pardon me, I pray 
you : 
I thought that all things had been savage here ; 
And therefore put I on the countenance 
Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are 
That in this desert inaccessible, 
[10 Under the shade of melancholy boughs. 
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time ; 
If ever you have looked on better days. 
If ever been where bells have knolled to church, 
If ever sat at any good man's feast, 

1 The seaport towns were doubtless full of roistering seafarers 
whose conceptions of manners were large and loose. 



138 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear 
And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, 
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be : 
In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. 

Duke S. True is it that Ave have seen better days, 
120 And have with holy bell been knoUed to church 
And sat at good men's feasts and wiped our eyes 
Of drops that sacred pity hath engendered : 
And therefore sit you down in gentleness 
And take upon command what help we have 
That to your wanting may be ministered. 

Orl. Then but forbear your food a little while, 
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn 
And give it food. There is an old poor man. 
Who after me hath many a weary step 
130 Limped in pure love : till he be first sufficed, 
Oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger, 
I will not touch a bit. 

Duke S. Go find him out. 

And we will nothing Avaste till you return. 

Orl. I thank ye ; and be blessed for your good 
comfort ! ' \_Uxit. 

Duke S. Thou seest Ave are not all alone un- 
happy : 
This Avide and universal theater 
Presents more woeful j)ageants than the scene 
Wherein Ave play in. 

Jaq. All the world's a stage, ^ 

1 This is one of those elaborate passages that catch the fancy. 
It is amusing in itself, though it presents a satirical and sordid 



Scene VII] AS YOU LIKE IT 139 

And all the men and women merely players: 
140 They have their exits and their entrances ; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, 
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. 
And then the whining schoolboy, with his sachel 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover. 
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, 
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, 
150 Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel. 
Seeking the bubble reputation 
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the 

justice, 
In fair round belly with good capon lined. 
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut. 
Full of wise saws and modern instances ; 
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,^ 
With spectacles on nose and poucli on side. 
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 
160 For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice. 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, 
That ends this strange eventful history, 

view, but it has not mucli to do witli the play. It is to be re- 
marked, however, that it is put in the mouth of the cynical Jaques : 
it is not the view of Shakespeare himself. 

1 a conventional figure in Italian comedy ; a doddering and fool- 
ish old man. 



140 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

Is second childishness and mere oblivion, 

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. 

Re-enter Orlando with Adam 

Duhe S. Welcome. Set down your venerable 
burden 
And let him feed. 

Orl. I thank you most for him. 
Adam. So had you need : 

I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. 
170 Duke S. Welcome; fall to: 1 will not trouble you 
As yet, to question you about your fortunes. 
Give us some music ; and, good cousin, sing. 

Song 
Ami. Blow, blow, thou winter wind. 
Thou art not so unkind 
As man's ingratitude ; 
Thy tooth is not so keen. 
Because thou art not seen. 
Although thy breath be rude. 
Heigh-ho ! sing, heigh-ho ! unto the green holly t 
180 Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere 
folly; 

Then, heigh-ho, the holly ! 
This life is most jolly. 

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky. 
That dost not bite so nigh 
As benefits forgot : 



Scene VII] AS YOU LIKE IT 141 

Though thou the waters warp, 
Thy sting is not so sharp 
As friend remembered not. 
Heigh-ho ! sing, &c. 

190 Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Row- 
land's son. 
As you have whispered faithfully you were, 
And as mine eye doth his effigies witness 
Most truly limned and living in 5^our face. 
Be truly welcome hither : I am the duke 
That loved your father : the residue of your 

fortune, 
Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man. 
Thou art right welcome as thy master is. 
Support him by the arm. Give me your hand. 
And let me all your fortunes understand. 

\_^xeunf. 

ACT III 

Scene I. A room in the palace 

Enter Duke Feederick, Lords, aiid Oliver 

Duke F. Not see him since ? Sir, sir, that can- 
not be : 
But were I not the better part made mercy, 
I should not seek an absent argument 
Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it : 
Find out thy brother, wlieresoe'er he is ; 
Seek him with candle ; bring him dead or living 



142 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more 
To seek a living in our territory. 
Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine 
10 Worth seizure do Ave seize into our hands, 
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth 
Of what we think against thee.^ 

Oli. O that your highness knew my heart in 
this ! 
I never loved my brother in my life. 

DuJce F, More villain thou. Well, push him 
out of doors ; 
And let my officers of such a nature 
Make an extent upon his house and lands ; 
Do this expediently and turn him going. 

\^Exeunt. 

Scene II. The forest 

Enter Orlando, loith a paper 

Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my 
love: 
And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, ^ 
survey 
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above. 
Thy huntress' name that my full life doth 
sw^ay. 

1 The duke accuses liim practically of what he would willingly 
have done. 

2 Phoebe, Persephone, Artemis, often identified and conceived as 
cue goddess with threefold attributes. 



Scene 11] AS YOU LIKE IT 143 

O Rosalind I these trees shall be my books. 

And in their barks my thoughts I'll character; 
That every eye which in this forest looks 

Shall see thy virtue witnessed everywliere. 
Run, run, Orlando ; carve on every tree 
loThe fair, the chaste and unexpressive ^ she. 

[Exit. 
JE titer CoRiN and Touchstone 

Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life. 
Master Touchstone? 

Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it 
is a good life, but in respect that it is a shepherd's 
life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I 
like it very well , but in respect that it is private, 
it is a very vile life. Now, in respect it is in the 
fields, it pleaseth me well ; but in respect it is not 
in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, 
20 look you, it fits my humor well; but as there is 
no more plenty in it, it goes much against my 
stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd? 

Cor. No more but that I know the more one 
sickens the worse at ease he is , and that he wants 
money, means and content is without three good 
friends ; that the property of rain is to wet and 
fire to burn ; that good pasture makes fat sheep, 
and that a great cause of the night is lack of the 
sun ; that he that hath learned no wit by nature 
30 nor art may complain of good breeding or comes 
of a very dull kindred. 

1 inexpressible. 



144 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. 
Wast ever in court, shepherd ? 

Cor. No, truly. 

Touch. Then thou art damned. 

Cor. Nay, I hope. 

Touch. Truly, thou art damned, like an ill- 
roasted egg all on one side. 

Cor. For not being at court ? Your reason. 
40 Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou 
never sawest good manners ; if thou never sawest 
good manners, then thy manners must be wicked ; 
and Avickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. 
Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd. 

Cor. Not a whit. Touchstone : those that are 
good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the 
country as the behavior of the country is most 
mockable at the court. ^ You told me you salute 
not at the court, but you kiss your hands ! that 
50 courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were 
shepherds. 

Touch. Instance, briefly ; come, instance. 

Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes, and 
their fells, you know, are greasy. 

Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands 
sweat ? and is not the grease of a mutton as 
wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shal- 
low. A better instance, I say ; come. 

Cor. Besides, our hands are hard. 

1 Corin, as before, tries to keep up with Touchstone's absurdi- 
ties by the slower processes of common sense. 



Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT , 145 

60 Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. 
Shallow again. A more sounder instance, come. 

Cor. And they are often tarred over with the 
surgery oi our sheep ; and would you have us 
kiss tar? The courtier's hands are perfumed 
with civet. 

Touch. Most shallow man ! thou worms-meat, 

in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed ! Learn 

of the wise, and perpend : civet is of a baser birth 

than tar, the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend 

70 the instance, shepherd. 

Ooi\ You have too courtly a wit for me : I'll 
rest. 

Touch. Wilt thou rest damned? God help 
thee, shallow man ! God make incision in thee ! 
thou art raw. 

Cor. Sir, I am a true laborer: I earn that I eat, 

get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's 

happiness, glad of other men's good, content with 

my harm, and the greatest of my pride is to see 

80 my ewes graze and my lambs suck. 

Touch. If thou beest not damned for this, the 
devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot 
see else how thou shouldst 'scape. 

Cor. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my 
new mistress' brother. 

Enter Rosalind, ivith a paper^ reading 

Ros. From the east to western Ind, 
No jewel is like Rosalind. 



146 IIAWTIIOBNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Her worth, being mounted on the wind, 
Through all the Avorld bears Rosalind. 
90 All the pictures fairest lined 

Are but black to Rosalind. 
Let no fair be kept in mind 
But the fair of Rosalind. 
Touch. I'll rhyme you so eight years together, 
dinners and suppers and sleeping-hours excepted : 
it is the right butter-women's rank to market. 
Hos. Out, fool ! 
Touch. For a taste: 

If a hart do lack a hind, 
[00 Let him seek out Rosalind. 

If the cat will after kind, 

So be sure will Rosalind. 

Winter garments must be lined, 

So must slender Rosalind. 

They that reap must sheaf and bind ; 

Then to cart with Rosalind. 

Sweetest nut hath sourest rind. 

Such a nut is Rosalind. 

He that sweetest rose will find 
10 Must find love's prick and Rosalind. ^ 

This is the very false gallop of verses : why do you 
infect yourself with them? 

Mos. Peace, you dull fool ! I found them on a 
tree. 



1 As before, II., v., 51, Shakespeare shows himself an excellent 
imrodist. 



Scene II] ^,S YOU LIKE IT 147 

Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. 

Ros. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall 

graft' it with a medlar ; then it will be the earliest 

fruit i' the country; for you'll be rotten ere you 

be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the 

120 medlar. 

Touch. You have said ; but whether wisely or 
no, let the forest judge. 

Enter Celia, with a tvriting 

Ros. Peace ! 
Here comes my sister, reading : stand aside. 
Cel. [Reads'] 

Why should this a desert be ? 

For it is unpeopled ? No ; 
Tongues 111 hang on every tree, 

Tliat shall civil sayings show : 
Some, how brief the life of man 
130 Runs his erring pilgrimage. 

That the stretching of a span 

Buckles in his sum of age ; 
Some, of violated vows 

'Twixt the souls of friend and friend : 
But upon the fairest boughs. 

Or at every sentence end. 
Will I Rosalinda write. 

Teaching all that read to know 
TJie quintessence of every sprite 
140 Heaven would in little sliow. 



148 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Therefore Heaven Nature charged 

That one body should be filled 
With all graces wide-enlarged : 

Nature presently distilled 
Helen's cheek, but not her heart,i 

Cleopatra's majesty, 
Atalanta's better part. 

Sad Lucretia's modesty. 
Thus Rosalind of many parts 
150 By heavenly synod was devised, 

Of many faces, eyes, and hearts. 
To have the touches dearest prized. 
Heaven would that she these gifts should have. 
And I to live and die her slave. 

Hos. O most gentle pulpiter ! what tedious 
homily of love have you wearied your parishioners 
withal, and never cried " Have patience, good peo- 
ple ! " 

Cel. How now ! back, friends ! Shepherd, go 
160 off a little. Go with him, sirrah. 

Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honora- 
ble retreat ; though not with bag and baggage, 
yet with scrip and scrippage. 

\_Exeunt CoRiN and Touchstone. 

Cel. Didst thou hear these verses ? 

Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too ; 

1 Helen was beautiful but not especially good ; of Cleopatra 
Shakespeare subsequently thought differently. Atalanta's " better 
part" must have been her swiftness of foot; the story of Lucrece 
had interested Shakespeare not long before. 



Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 149 

for some of them had in them more feet tlian the 
verses would bear. 

Cel. That's no matter : the feet might bear the 
verses. 
170 Bos. Aye, but the feet were lame and could not 
bear themselves without the verse and therefore 
stood lamely in the verse. 

Cel. But didst thou hear without wondering 
how thy name should be hanged and carved upon 
these trees? 

Bos. I was seven of the nine days out of the 

wonder before you came ; for look here what I 

found on a palm-tree. I was never so berhymed 

since Pythagoras' time,i that I was an Irish rat, 

180 which I can hardly remember. 

Cel. Trow you who hath done this ? 

Bos. Is it a man? 

Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about 
his neck. Change you color ? 

Bos. I prithee, who ? 

Cel. O Lord, Lord I it is a hard matter for 
friends to meet ; but mountains may be removed 
with earthquakes and so encounter. 

Bos. Nay, but who is it ? 
190 Cel. Is it possible ? 

Bos. Nay, I prithee now with most petitionary 
vehemence, tell me who it is. 

Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonder= 

1 The doctrine of Pythagoras was that people lived in many 
bodies, one after another, some human, some animal. 



150 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

ful wonderful I and yet again wonderful, and after 
that, out of all hooping ! 

Bos. Good my complexion ! dost thou think, 
though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a 
doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of 
delay more is a South -sea of discovery ; I prithee, 
200 tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. I 
would thou couldst stammer, that thou mightst 
pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine 
comes out of a narrow-mouthed bottle, either too 
much at once, or none at all. I prithee, take the 
cork out of thy mouth that I may drink thy tid- 
ings. Is he of God's making ? AVhat manner of 
man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth 
a beard? 

Oel. Nay, he hath but a little beard. 
210 Mos. Why, God will send more, if the man will 
be thankful : let me stay the growth of his beard, 
if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. 

Oel. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the 
wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant. 

Bos. Nay, but the devil take mocking : speak, 
sad brow and true maid. 

Cel. r faith, coz, 'tis he. 

Bos. Orlando ? 

Cel Orlando. 
220 Bos. Alas the day ! what shall I do Avith my 
doublet and hose ? ^ What did he when thou 
saAvest him? What said he? How looked he? 

1 The idea of Orlaudo made her think of her skirts. 



Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 151 

Wherein went he ? What makes he here ? Did 
he ask for me? Where remains he ? How parted 
he with thee ? and when shalt thou see him again ? 
Answer me in one word. 

Cel. You must borrow me Gargantua's ^ mouth 
first : 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this 
age's size. To say aye and no to these particulars 
230 is more than to answer in a catechism. 

Bos. But doth he know that I am in this forest 
and in man's apparel ? Looks he as freshly as he 
did the day he wrestled ? 

Cel. It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve 
the propositions of a lover ; but take a taste of my 
finding him, and relish it with good observance. 
I found him under a tree, like a drojDped acorn. 

Bos. It may well be called Jove's tree, when it 
drops forth such fruit. 
240 Cel. Give me audience, good madam. 

Bos. Proceed. 

Cel. There lay he, stretched along, like a 
wounded knight. 

Bos. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it 
well becomes the ground. 

Cel. Cry "holla" to thy tongue, I prithee; it 
curvets unseasonably. He was furnished like a 
hunter. 

Bos. O, ominous ! he comes to kill my heart. 
250 Cel. I would sing my song without a burden : 
thou bringest me out of tune. 

1 Gargautua was a good giant, of whom Rabelais wrote. 



152 UAWTHORNE CLA.<=iSICS [Act III 

Mos. Do you not know I am a woman ? when I 
think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. 

Cel. You bring me out. Soft? comes he not 
here ? 

Enter Orlando and Jaques 

Ros. 'Tis he : slink by, and note him. 

Jaq. I thank you for your company ; but, good 
faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. 

Orl. And so had I ; but yet, for fashion sake, 
260 1 thank you too for your society. 

Jaq. God be wi' you : let's meet as little as we 
can. 

Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers. 

Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing 
love-songs in their barks. 

Orl. I pray you, mar no moe of my verses with 
reading them ill-favoredly. 

Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name ? 

Orl. Yes, just. 
270 Jaq. I do not like her name. 

Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you 
when she was christened. 

Jaq. What stature is she of ? 

Orl. Just as high as ni}^ heart. 

Jaq. You are full of pretty answers. Have 
you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, 
and conned them out of rings? ^ 

Orl. Not so ; but T answer you right painted 

1 There used often to be mottoes and sentiments in gold rings. 



Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 153 

cloth, from whence you have studied your ques- 
iSotions. 

Jaq. You have a nimble wit : I think 'twas 
made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with 
me ? and we two will rail against our mistress the 
world and all our misery. 

Orl. I will chide no breather in the world but 
myself, against whom I know most faults. 

Jaq. The worst fault you have is to be in love. 

Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best 
virtue. I am weary of you. 
290 Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when 
I found you. 

Orl. He is drowned in the brook : look but in, 
and you shall see him. 

Jaq. There I shall see mine own figure.^ 

Orl. Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. 

Jaq. I'll tarry no longer with you : farewell, 
good Signior Love. 

Orl. I am glad of your departure : adieu, good 

Monsieur Melancholy. [Uxit Jaques. 

300 Mos. lAside to Celia] I will speak to him like 

a saucy lackey and under that habit play the knave 

with him. Do you hear, forester ? ^ 

Orl. Very well : what would you ? 

Bos. I pray you, what is't o'clock? 

Orl. You should ask me what time o' day ; 
there's no clock in the forest. 

1 figure is face ; the answer is a little too tame for Jaques. 

2 Rosalind, who was very uervous, is now all herself again. 



154 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Ros. Tlieii there is no true lover in the forest : 



else sighing every minute and groaning every hour 
would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a 
310 clock. 

Orl. And why not the swift foot of Time ? had 
not that been as proper ? 

Hos. By no means, sir : Time travels in divers 
paces with divers persons. I'll tell you who Time 
ambles Avithal, who Time trots withal, who Time 
gallops withal and who he stands still withal. 

0)^1. I prithee, who doth he trot withal? 

Hos. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid 

between the contract of her marriage and the day 

320 it is solemnized : if the interim be but a se'nnight, 

Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of 

seven year. 

Orl. Who ambles Time withal? 

Mos. With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich 
man that hath not the gout, for the one sleeps 
easily because he cannot study and the other lives 
merrily because he feels no pain, the one lacking 
the burden of lean and wasteful learning, the other 
knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury ; these 
330 Time ambles withal. 

Orl. Who doth he gallop withal ? 

Bos. With a thief to the gallows, for though 
he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself 
too soon there. 

Orl. Who stays it still withal ? 

Ros. With lawyers in the vacation; for they 



Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 155 

sleep between term and term and then they per- 
ceive not how Time moves. 

Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth ? 
340 Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister ; here in 
the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petti- 
coat. 

Orl. Are you native of this place ? 

Bos. As the cony that you see dwell where she 
is kindled. 1 

Orl. Your accent is something finer than you 
could purchase in so removed a dwelling. 

Hos. I have been told so of many : but indeed 
an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, 
350 who was in his youth an inland man ; ^ one that 
knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. 
I have heard him read many lectures against it, 
and I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched 
with so many giddy offenses as lie hath generally 
taxed their whole sex withal. 

Orl. Can you remember any of the principal 
evils that he laid to the charge of women ? 

Hos. Tliere were none principal ; they were all 
like one another as halfpence are, every one fault 
360 seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to 
match it. 

Orl. I prithee recount some of them. 

Bos. No, I will not cast away my physic but on 
those that are sick. There is a man haunts the 

1 born ; the word is from kind, meauing race or generation. 

2 Cf. II., vii., 96. 



156 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

forest, that abuses our young plants with carving 
" Rosalind " on their barks : hangs odes upon haw- 
thorns and elegies on brambles, all, forsooth, deify- 
ing the name of Rosalind : if I could meet that 
fancy-monger,^ I would give him some good coun- 

370 sel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon 
him. 

Orl. I am he that is so love-shaked : I pray 
you, tell me your remedy. 

Itos. There is none of my uncle's marks upon 

you : he taught me how to know a man in love ; in 

which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner. 

Orl. What were his marks? 

Mos. A lean cheek, which you have not, a blue 

eye and sunken, which you have not, an unques- 

380 tionable spirit, w^hich you have not, a beard neg- 
lected, which you have not ; but I pardon you for 
that, for simply your having in beard is a younger 
brother's revenue : then your hose should be un- 
gartered, your bonnet unhanded, your sleeve 
unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and everything 
about you demonstrating a careless desolation; 
but you are no such man ; you are rather point- 
device in your accouterments as loving yourself 
than seeming the lover of any other. 

390 Orl. Fair youth, I would I could make thee 
believe I love. 

^ For fancy cf. A Midsummer-NighVs Dream, II., i., 156; a 
fancy-monger, then, was one who made love a business, as it 
were, — was a professional at it. 



Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT ^ 15Y 

Mos. Me l)elieve it ! you may tis soon make her 
that you love believe it ; which, I warrant, she is 
apter to do than to confess she does : that is one 
of the points in which women still give the lie to 
their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he 
that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosa- 
lind is so admired? 

Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by tlie white hand 
400 of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. 

Bos. But are you so much in love as your 
rhymes speak? 

Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how 
much. 

Mos. Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, 
deserves as well a dark house and a whip as mad- 
men do : 1 and the reason why they are not so 
punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordi- 
nary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I 
410 profess curing it by counsel. 

Orl. Did you ever cure any so ? 

Ros. Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to 
imagine me his love, his mistress ; and I set him 
every day to woo me : at which time would I, 
being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, 
changeable, longing and liking, proud, fantastical, 
apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of 
smiles, for every passion something and for no 
passion truly anything, as boys and women are 

1 Madmen fared ill in those days ; we see more of the custom in 
the fate of Malvolio in Tioelfth Night. 



158 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act III 

420 for the Diost part cattle of this cohDr : would now 
like him, now loathe him ; then entertain him, 
then forswear him ; now weep for him, then spit 
at him ; that I drave my suitor from his mad 
humor of love to a living humor of madness ; 
which was, to forswear the full stream of the 
world and to live in a nook merely monastic. 
And thus I cured him : and in this way will I 
take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a 
sound sheep's heart, that there shall not be one 
430 spot of love in't. 

Orl. I would not be cured, youth. 
Ros. I Avould cure you, if you would but call 
me Rosalind and come every day to my cote and 
woo me. 

Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, I will : tell 
me where it is. 

Ros. Go with me to it and Til show it you : 
and by the way you shall tell me where in the 
forest yon live. Will you go? 
440 Orl. With all my heart, good youth. 

Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, 
sister, will you go ? \_Uxeunt. 

Scene III. The forest 
Enter Touchstone and Audrey ; Jaques behind. 
Touch. Come apace, good Audrey : I will fetch 
uj) your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? am 
I the man yet? doth my simple feature content 
you? 



Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 159 

Aud. Your features ! Lord warrant us ! what 
features ? 

Touch. I am here with thee and tliy goats, as 
the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among 
the Goths. 1 
10 Jaq. \_Aside^ O knowledge ill-inliabited, worse 
than Jove in a thatched house ! 

Touch. When a man's verses cannot be under- 
stood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the 
forward child understanding, it strikes a man 
more dead than a great reckoning in a little room. 
Truly, I would the gods liad made thee poetical. 

Aud. I do not know what '' poetical " is : is it 
honest in deed and word? is it a true thing? 

Touch. No, truly ; for the truest poetry is the 

20 most feigning ; and lovers are given to poetry, 

and what they swear in poetry may be said as 

lovers they do feign. 

' Aud. Do you wish then that the gods had made 

me poetical? 

Touch. 1 do truly ; for thou swearest to me 
thou art honest ; now, if thoa wert a poet, I might 
have some hope thou didst feign. 

Aud. Would you not have me honest? 

Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert hard- 
30 favored ; for honesty coupled to beauty is to 
have honey a sauce to sugar. 

1 Ovid was banished from Rome to the Thracian Chersonesus ; 
Touchstone calls him capricious with a puu ou caper, the Latin for 
goat. 



160 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Jaq. [Aside^ A material fool ! 

Aud. Well, I am not fair ; and therefore I pray 
the gods make me honest. 

Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty uj)on 
a foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean 
dish. 

Aud. I am not a slut, though 1 thank the gods 
I am foul. 
40 Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foul- 
ness ! sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it 
as it may be, I will marry thee, and to that end I 
have been with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of 
the next village, who hath promised to meet me 
in tliis place of the forest and to couple us. 

Jaq. [Aside] I would fain see this meeting. 

Aud. Well, the gods give us joy ! 

Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a 

fearful heart, stagger in this attempt ; for here we 

50 have no temple but the wood, no assembly but 

horn-beasts. But Avhat though ? Courage I Here 

comes Sir Oliver. 

Enter Sir Oliver Martext 

Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met: will you 
dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go 
with you to your chapel? 

Sir Oil. Is there none here to give the woman? 

Touch, I will not take her on gift of any man. 

Sir Oil. Truly, she must be given, or the mar- 
riage is not lawful. 



Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 161 

60 Jaq. \_Advancing'] Proceed, proceed : I'll give 
her. 

Touch. Good even, good Master What-ye-call't; 
how do you, sir? You are very well met : God 'ild 
you for your last company : I am very glad to see 
you : even a toy in hand here, sir : nay, pray be 
covered. 

Jaq. Will you be married, motley ? 

Touch. As the ox has his bow, sir, the horse his 
curb and the falcon lier bells, so man hath his 
70 desires ; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be 
nibbling. 

Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breed- 
ing, be married under a busii like a beggar? Get 
you to church, and have a good priest that can 
tell you what marriage is : this fellow will but 
join you together as they join wainscot ; then one 
of you will prove a shrunk panel, and, like green 
timber, warp, warp. 

Touch. [Aside] I am not in the mind but I 

80 were better to be married of him than of another : 

for he is not like to marry me well ; and not being 

well married, it will be a good excuse for me 

hereafter to leave my wife. 

Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. 

Touch. Come, sweet Audrey: 
Farewell, good Master Oliver ; not, — 
O sweet Oliver, 
O brave Oliver, 
Leave me not behind thee : 



162 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

90 but, — 

Wind away, 
Begone, I say, 
I will not to wedding with thee. 
\_Exeiint Jaques, Touchstone and Audrey. 
Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter : ne'er a fantastical 
knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. 

lExit. 

Scene IV. The forest 

Enter Rosalind and Celia 

Ros. Never talk to me : I will weep. 

del. Do, I prithee ; but yet have the grace to 
consider that tears do not become a man. 

Ros. But have I not cause to weep ? 

Cel. As good cause as one would desire ; there- 
fore weep. 

Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling color. 

Cel. Something browner than Judas's : ^ marry, 
his kisses are Judas's own children. 
10 Ros. V faith, his hair is of a good color. 

Cel. An excellent color : your chestnut was 
ever the only color. 

Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as 
the touch of holy bread. 

Cel. He hatli bought a pair of cast lips of 
Diana : a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not 
more religiously ; the very ice of chastity is in 
them. 

1 Traditiou had it that Judas's hair was red. 



Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 163 

Bos. But why did he swear he would come this 
20 morning, and comes not ? 

Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. 

Hos. Do you think so ? 

Cel. Yes ; I think he is not a pick-purse nor a 
horse-stealer, but for his verity in love, I do 
think him as concave as a covered goblet or a 
worm-eaten nut. 

Ros. Not true in love ? 

Cel. Yes, when he is in ; but I think he is not 
in. 
30 Bos. You have heard him swear downright he 
was. 

Cel. '' Was " is not " is " : besides, the oath of 
a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster ; 
they are both the confirmer of false reckonings. 
He attends here in the forest on the duke your 
father. 

Bos. I met the duke yesterday and had much 
question with him : he asked me of what parent- 
age I was ; I told him, of as good as he ; so he 
40 laughed and let me go. But what talk we of 
fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando ? 

Cel. O, that's a brave man ! he writes brave 
verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths and 
breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the 
heart of his lover ; as a puisny tilter, that spurs 
his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a 
noble goose : but all's brave that youth mounts 
and folly guides. Who comes here ? 



164 UAWTIIOENE CLASSICS [Act III 

Unter Cokin 

Cor. Mistress and master, you have oft inquired 
50 After the shepherd tliat comphiined of love, 
Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, 
Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess 
That was his mistress. 

Cel. AVell, and what of him ? 

Cor. If you will see a pageant truly played, 
Between the pale complexion of true love 
And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, 
Go hence a little and I shall conduct you, 
If you will mark it. 

Ros. O, come, let us remove : 

The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. 
60 Bring us to this sight, and you shall say 

I'll prove a busy actor in their play. \_Uxeunt. 

Scene V. Another part of the forest 
Unter SiLVius and Phebe 

Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me ; do not, 

Phebe ; 
Say that you love me not, but say not so 
In bitterness. The common executioner. 
Whose heart the accustomed sight of death makes 

hard. 
Falls not the ax upon the humbled neck 
But first begs pardon ; will you sterner be 
Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ? 



Scene V] AS YOU LIKE IT 165 

Unter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin, behind 

Phe. I would not be thy executioner : 
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. 

10 Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye : 
'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable. 
That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things. 
Who shut their coward gates on atomies. 
Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers 1 
Now I do frown on thee with all my heart ; 
And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee : 
Now counterfeit to swoon ; why now fall down ; 
Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame. 
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers ! 

20 Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee : 
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains 
Some scar of it ; lean upon a rush, 
The cicatrice and capable impressure 
Thy palm some moment keeps ; but now mine 

eyes. 
Which 1 have darted at thee, hurt thee not, 
Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes 
That can do hurt. 

Sil. O dear Phebe, 

If ever, — as that ever may be near, — 
You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, 

30 Then shall you know the wounds invisible 
That love's keen arrows make. 

Phe. But till that time 

Come not thou near me : and when that time 
comes. 



166 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Afflict me Avith thy mocks, pity me not ; 
As till that time I shall not pity thee. 

Bos. And why, I pray you ? Who might be 
your mother. 
That you insult, exult, and all at once. 
Over the Avretched? What though you have no 

beauty, — 
As, by my faith, I see no more in you 
Than without candle may go dark to bed, — 

40 Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ? 
Why, what means this ? AVhy do you look on me ? 
I see no more in you than in the ordinary 
Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life, 
I think she means to tangle my e3^es too ! 
No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it : 
'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair. 
Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream. 
That can entame my spirits to your worship. 
You foolish shepherd, wherefore do j^ou follow her, 

50 Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain ? 
You are a thousand times a properer man 
Than she a woman : 'tis such fools as you 
That makes the world full of ill-favored children : 
'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her ; 
And out of you she sees herself more proper 
Than any of her lineaments can show her. 
But mistress, know j^ourself : down on your knees. 
And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love : 
For I must tell you friendly in your ear, 

60 Sell when you can : you are not for all markets : 



Scene V] AS YOU LIKE IT 167 

Cry the luau inercy ; love him ; take his offer : 
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. 
So take her to thee, sliephercl : fare you well.^ 

Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year to- 
gether : I had rather hear you chide than this 
man woo. 

Bos. He's fallen in love with your foulness, 

and she'll fall in love with my anger. If it be so, 

as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, 

70 I'll sauce her with bitter words. Why look you 

so upon me ? 

Phe. For no ill will I bear you. 

Mos. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, 
For I am falser than vows made in wine : 
Besides, I like you not. If you will know my 

house, 
'Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by. 
Will you go, sister ? Shepherd, ply her hard. 
Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better, 
And be not proud : though all the world could see 
80 None could be so abused in sight as he. 
Come, to our flock. 

[Uxeunt Rosalind, Celta, a7id Corin. 

Phe. Dead shepherd,2now I find thy saw of might. 
" Who ever loved that loved not at first sight ? " 

1 Rosalind's speech, it must be remembered, is conceived by a 
woman and uttered by a boy. 

2 The "dead shepherd" is Marlowe, greater than any of the 
dramatists who followed him except Shakespeare. This line 
comes, however, not from his plays, but from his poem " Hero and 
Leander." 



168 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Arx III 

Sil. Sweet Phebe, — 

P?te. Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius ? 

Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me. 

Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. 

Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be : 
If you do sorrow at my grief in love. 
By giving love your sorrow and my grief 
90 Were both extermined. 

Phe. Thou hast my love : is not that neigh- 
borly ? 

Sil. I would have you. 

Phe. Why, that were covetousness. 

Silvius, the time was that I hated thee, 
And yet it is not that I bear thee love ; 
But since that thou canst talk of love so well, 
Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, 
I will endure, and I'll employ thee too : 
But do not look for further recompense 
Than thine own gladness that thou art employed. 
100 Sil. So lioly and so perfect is my love, 
And I in such a poverty of grace. 
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop 
To glean the broken ears after the man 
That the main harvest reaps : loose now and then 
A scattered smile, and that I'll live upon. 

Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to 
me erewhile ? 

Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft ; 
And he hath both the cottage and the bounds 
That the old carlot once was master of. 



Scene V] AS YOU LIKE IT 169 

"o Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for 
him ; 
'Tis but a peevish boy ; yet he talks well ; 
But what care I for words? yet words do well 
When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. 
It is a pretty youth : not very pretty : 
But, sure, he's proud, and yet his pride becomes 

him : 
He'll make a proper man : the best thing in him 
Is his complexion ; and faster than liis tongue 
Did make offense his eye did heal it up. 
He is not very tall ; yet for his years he's tall : 

120 His leg is but so so ; and yet 'tis well : 
There was a pretty redness in his lip, 
A little riper and more lusty red 
Than that mixed in his cheek ; 'twas just the dif- 
ference 
Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. 
There be some women, Silvius, had they marked 

him 
In parcels as I did, would have gone near 
To fall in love Avith him ; but, for my part, 
I love him not nor hate him not ; and yet 
I have more cause to hate him than to love him : 

130 For what had he to do to chide at me ? 

He said mine eyes were black and my hair black : 

And, now I am remembered, scorned at me : 

I marvel why I answered not again : 

But that's all one : omittance is no quittance, 

I'll write to him a very taunting letter, 



170 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

And thou slialt bear it : wilt thou, Silvius ? 
Sil. Phebe, with all my heart. 
Phe. I'll write it straight ; 

The matter's in my head and in my heart : 
I will be bitter with him and passing short. 
[40 Go with me, Silvius. \_^xeunt. 



ACT IV 

Scene I. The forest 
Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Jaques 

Jaq. I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better 
acquainted with thee. 

Bos. They say you are a melancholy^ fellow. 

Jaq. I am so ; I do love it better than laughing. 

Ros. Those that are in extremity of either are 
abominable fellows and betray themselves to every 
modern censure worse than drunkards. 

Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. 

Bos. Why then, 'tis good to be a post. 

1 This word is an interesting one. In Shakespeare's time it 
meant what it does now and other things too. Just as in Milton's 
" II Penseroso," melancholy does not mean merely the pensive sad- 
ness that we think of to-day, so in this passage it does not. Origi- 
nally melancholy was one of the four "humors" (see the note on 
p. 112), — the hlackly bilious humor which cast a shade over one's 
life and, if it were too strong, caused hypochondria, hisanity, and 
death. But from this earlier half-pathological conception, the word 
softened in meaning so that it means little more than a thoughtful 
humor. The passage following is one of Jaques's intellectual tours 
deforce, like the " All the world's a stage." 



Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 171 

lo Jaq. I have neither the schohir's melancholy, 
which is emulation, nor the musician's, which is 
fantastical, nor the courtier's, which is proud, nor 
the soldier's, which is ambitious, nor the lawyer's, 
which is politic, nor the lady's, which is nice, nor 
the lover's, whicli is all these : but it is a melan- 
choly of mine own, compounded of many simples, 
extracted from many objects, and indeed the sun- 
dry contemplation of my travels, in which my 
often rumination wraps me in a most humorous 
20 sadness. 

Eos. A traveler ! By my faith, you have great 
reason to be sad : I fear you have sold your own 
lands to see other men's ; then, to have seen much 
and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and 
poor hands. 

Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience. 

Bos. And your experience makes you sad : I 
had rather have a fool to make me merry than 
experience to make me sad ; and to travel for it 
30 too ! 

Unter Oklando 

Orl. Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind ! 

Jaq. Nay, then, God be wi' you, an you talk in 
blank verse. [Uxit. 

Bos. Farewell, Monsieur Traveler : look you 
lisp and wear strange suits, disable all the benefits 
of your own country, be out of love with your 
nativity and almost chide God for making you 
that countenance you are, or I will scarce think 



172 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

yon have swam in a gondola. ^ Why, how now, 
40 Orlando I where have you been all this while ? 
You a lover ! An you serve me such another 
trick, never come in my sight more. 

Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come witliin an hour 
of my promise. 

Bos. Break an hour's promise in love ! He that 
will divide a minute into a thousand parts and 
break but a part of the thousandth part of a min- 
ute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that 
Cupid hath clapped him o' the shoulder, but I'll 
50 warrant him heart-whole. 

Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. 

Bos. Na}^ an you be so tardy, come no more in 
my sight : I had as lief be wooed of a snail. 

Orl. Of a snail ? 

Bos. Aye, of a snail ; for though he comes 
slowly, he carries his house on his head ; a better 
jointure, I think, than you make a woman : be- 
sides, he brings his destiny with him. 

Orl. What's that ? 
60 Bos. Why, horns, which such as you are fain to 
be beholding to your wives for : but he comes armed 
in his fortune and prevents the slander of his wife. 

Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker : and my Rosalind 
is virtuous. 

Bos. And I am your Rosalind. 

Cel. It pleases him to call you so ; but he hath 
a Rosalind of a better leer than you. 

1 i.e. be affected, or no one will know you have been abroad. 



Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 173 

Eos. Come, woo me, woo me, for now T am in 
a holiday humor and like enough to consent. 
70 What would you say to me now, an I were your 
very very Rosalind ? 

Orl. I would kiss before I spoke. 

Mos. Nay, you were better speak first, and when 
you were graveled for lack of matter, you might 
take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when 
they are out, they will spit ; and for lovers lack- 
ing — God warn us I — matter, the cleanliest shift 
is to kiss. 

Orl. How if the kiss be denied ? 
80 Mos. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there 
begins new matter. 

Orl. Who could be out, being before his be- 
loved mistress ? 

Bos. Marry, that should you, if I were your 
mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker 
than my wit. 

Orl. What, of my suit ? 

Mos. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of 
your suit. Am I not your Rosalind ? 
90 Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I 
would be talking of her. 

Mos. Well, in her person I say I will not have you. 

Orl. Then in mine own person I die. 

Mos. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor 
world is almost six thousand years old, and in all 
this time there was not any man died in his own 
person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had his 



174 HAWTHOENE CLASSICS [Act IV 

brains dashed out with a Grecian club ; yet he 
did what he could to die before, and he is one of 
100 the patterns of love. Leander,^ he Avould have lived 
many a fair year, tliough Hero had turned nun, 
if it had not been for a hot midsummer night ; for, 
good- youth, he went but forth to wash him in the 
Hellespont and being taken with the cramp was 
drowned : and the foolish chroniclers of that age 
found it was '' Hero of Sestos." But these are all 
lies : men have died from time to time and worms 
have eaten them, but not for love. 

Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this 
no mind, for, I protest her frown might kill me. 

Bos. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But 
come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more com- 
ing-on disposition, and ask me what you will, 1 
will grant it. 

Orl. Then love me, Rosalind. 

Bos. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays 
and all. 

Orl. And wilt thou have me ? 

Bos. Aye, and twenty such. 
120 Orl. What sayest thou ? 

Bos. Are you not good ? 

Orl. I hope so. 

Bos. Why, then, can one desire too much of a 
good thing ? Come, sister, you shall be the priest 
and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando. 
What do you say, sister ? 

1 Shakespeare thinks again of the "dead shepherd's" "Hero 
and Leauder." 



Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 175 

Orl. Pray thee, marry us. 

Cel. I cannot say the words. 
130 Bos. You must begin, " Will you, Orlando — " 

Cel. Go to, Will you, Orlando, have to wife 
this Rosalind ? 

Orl I will. 

Hos. Aye, but when ? 

Orl. Why now ; as fast as she can marry 
us. 

Bos. Then you must say, " I take thee, Rosalind, 
for wife." 

Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. 
140 Bos. 1 might ask you for your commission ; but 
I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband : there's 
a girl goes before the priest ; and certainly a 
woman's thought runs before her actions. 

Orl. So do all thoughts ; they are winged. 

Bos. Now tell me how long you would have her 
after you have possessed her. 

Orl. For ever and a day. 

Bos. Say "a day," without the " ever." No, no, 
Orlando ; men are April when they woo, Decem- 
150 ber when they wed : maids are May when they are 
maids, but the sky changes wheu they are wives. 
I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock- 
pigeon over his hen, more clamorous than a parrot 
against rain, more new-fangled than an ape, more 
giddy in my desires than a monkey : T will weep 
for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will 
do that when you are disposed to be merry; I 



176 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

Avill laugh like a liyen, and that when thou art 
inclined to sleep. 
i6o Orl. But will my Rosalind do so? 

Bos. By my life, she will do as I do. 

Orl. O, but she is wise. 

Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do 
this : the wiser, the way warder : make the doors 
upon a woman's wit and it will out at the case- 
ment ; shut that and 'twill out at the key-hole ; 
stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the 
chimney. 

Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, 
170 he might say, " Wit, whither Avilt ? " 

Mos. You shall never take her without her 
answer, unless you take her without her tongue. 
O, that woman that cannot make her fault her 
husband's occasion, let her never nurse her child 
herself, for she will breed it like a fool ! 

Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave 
thee. 

Itos. Alas ! dear love, I cannot lack thee two 
hours. 
180 Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner : by two 
o'clock I will be with thee again. 

Mos. Aye, go your ways, go your ways ; I knew 
what you Avould prove : my friends told me as 
much, and I thought no less : that flattering 
tongue of yours won me : 'tis but one cast away, 
and so, come, death ! Two o'clock is your hour? 

Orl. Aye, sweet Rosalind. 



Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 177 

Bos. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so 
God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are 
190 not dangerous, if you break one jot of your prom- 
ise or come one minute behind your hour, I will 
think you the most pathetical break-promise and 
the most hollow lover and the most unworthy of 
her you call Rosalind that may be chosen out of 
the gross band of the unfaithful : therefore be- 
ware my censure and keep your promise. 

Orl. With no less religion than if thou wert 
indeed my Rosalind : so adieu. 

Bos. Well, Time is the old justice that exam- 
200 ines all such offenders, and let Time try : adieu. 

[Uxit Orlando. 

Oel. You have simply misused our sex in your 
love-prate : we must have your doublet and hose 
plucked over your head, and show the world what 
the bird hath done to her own nest. 

Bos. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that 
thou didst know how many fathom deep I am 
in love ! But it cannot be sounded : my affec- 
tion hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of 
Portugal. 
210 Oel. Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you 
pour affection in, it runs out. 

Bos. No, that same wicked son of Venus that 
Avas begot of thought, conceived of spleen and 
born of madness, that blind rascally boy that 
abuses every one's eyes because his own are out, 
let him be judge how deep I am in love. I'll 



178 TIAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight 
of Orlando : I'll go find a shadow and sigh till 
he come. 
220 Cel. And I'll sleep. [^Uxeunt. 

Scene II. The forest ^ 
Writer Jaques, Lords, and Foresters 
Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer? 
A Lord. Sir, it was I. 

Jaq. Let's present him to the duke, like a 
Roman conqueror ; and it would do well to set 
the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of 
victory. Have you no song, forester, for this 
purpose ? 

For. Yes, sir. 

Jaq. Sing it : 'tis no matter how it be in tune, 
10 so it make noise enough. 

Song 
For. What shall he have that killed the deer? 
His leather skin and horns to wear. 
Then sing him home ; 
\_The rest shall bear this burden. 
Take thou no scorn to wear the horn ; 
It was a crest ere thou wast born : 

Thy father's father wore it, 
And thy father bore it : 
The horn, the liorn, the lusty horn 
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. [Exeunt. 

1 This is a pretty sceue which serves to till up the time till two 
o'clock, when Orlaudo is to be back again. 



Scene III] ^.S YOU LIKE IT 179 

Scene III. The forest 

Miter Rosalind and Celia 

Hos. How say j^ou now? Is it not past two 
o'clock? and here much Orlando ! 

Cel. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled 
brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone 
forth — to sleep. 1 Look, who comes here. 

Unfer SiLVius 

tSil. My errand is to you, fair youth ; 
My gentle Phebe bid me give you this : 
I know not the contents ; but, as I guess 
By the stern brow and waspish action 
lo Which she did use as she was writing of it. 
It bears an angry tenor : pardon me ; 
I am but as a guiltless messenger. 

Bos. Patience herself would startle at this 
letter 
And play the swaggerer ; bear this, bear all : 
She says I am not fair, that I lack manners ; 
She calls me proud, and that she could not love 

me. 
Were man as rare as phoenix. 'Od's my will ! 
Her love is not the hare that I do hunt : 
Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, 
20 This is a letter of your own device. 

1 Celia is not always comfortiug. 



180 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

SiL No, I protest, I know not the contents : 
Phebe did write it. 

Ros. Come, come, you are a fool 

And turned into the extremity of love. 
I saw her hand : she has a leathern hand, 
A freestone-colored hand ; I verily did think 
That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands : 
She has a huswife's hand ; but that's no matter : 
I say she never did invent this letter ; 
This is a man's invention and his hand. 
30 Sil. Sure, it is hers. 

Bos. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style, 
A style for challengers ; why, she defies me. 
Like Turk to Christian : women's gentle brain 
Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, 
Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect 
Than in their countenance. Will you hear the 
letter ? 

Sil. So please you, for I never lieard it yet ; 
Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. 

Bos. She Phebes me : mark how the tyrant 
writes. [Beads. 

40 Art thou god to shepherd turned. 

That a maiden's heart hath burned ? 

Can a w^oman rail thus? 
Sil. Call you this railing? 
Bos. \_Beads~\ 

Why, thy godhead laid apart, 
Warr'st thou with a woman's lieart? 



Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 181 

Did you ever hear such railmg? 

Whiles the eye of man did woo me, 
That could do no vengeance to me. 

Meaning me a beast. 

50 If the scorn of your bright eyne 

Have power to raise such love in mine, 
Alack, in me what strange effect 
Would they work in mild aspect ! 
Whiles you chid me, I did love ; 
How then might your prayers move ! 
He that brings this love to thee 
Little knows this love in me : 
And by him seal up thy mind ; 
Whether that thy youth and kind 

60 Will the faithful offer take 

Of me and all that I can make ; 
Or else by him ni}^ love deny. 
And then I'll study how to die. 

Sil. Call you this chiding ? 

Oel. Alas, poor shepherd ! 

Ros. Do you pity him ? no, he deserves no 
pity. Wilt thou love such a woman? What, 
to make thee an instrument and play false strains 
upon thee ! not to be endured ! Well, go your 
70 way to lier, for I see love hath made thee a tame 
snake, and say this to her ; that if she love me, I 
charge her to love thee ; if she will not, I will 
never have her unless thou entreat for her. If 



182 IIAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

you be a true lover, hence, and not a word ; for 
here comes more company. \_Uxit SiLVius. 

Uyifer Oliver 

on. Good-morrow, fair ones : pray you, if you 
know, 
Where in the purlieus of this forest stands 
A sheep-cote fenced about with olive trees? 

Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbor 
bottom : 
80 The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream 
Left on your riglit hand brings you to the place. 
But at this hour the house doth keep itself ; 
There's none within. 

Oil. If that an eye may profit by a tongue. 
Then should I know you by description ; 
Such garments and such years : " The boy is fair. 
Of female favor, and bestows himself 
Like a ripe sister : the woman low 
And browner than her brother." Are not you 
90 The owner of the house I did inquire for ? 

Cel. It is no boast, being asked, to say we are. 

Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both. 
And to that youth he calls his Rosalind 
He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he ? 

Ros. I am : what must we understand by this? 

Oli. Some of my shame ; if you will know of me 
What man I am, and liow, and wliy, and where 
This liandkercher was stained. 

Cel. I pray you, tell it. 



Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 183 

on. When last the young Orlando parted from 
you 

100 He left a promise to return again 

Within an hour, and pacing through the forest, 

Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, 

Lo, what befel ! he threw his eye aside, 

And mark what object did present itself : 

Under an oak, whose boughs were mossed with age 

And high top bald with dry antiquity, 

A wretched ragged man, overgrown with hair, 

Lay sleeping on his back : about his neck 

A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself, 

no Who with her head nimble in threats approached 
The opening of his mouth ; bat suddenly. 
Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself, 
And with indented glides did slip away 
Into a busli : under which bush's shade 
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry. 
Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch. 
When that the sleeping man should stir ; for 'tis 
The royal disposition of that beast 
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead : 

120 This seen, Orlando did approach the man 

And found it was his brother, his elder brother. 
Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that same 
brother ; 
And he did render him the most unnatural 
That lived amongst men. 

Oli. And well he might so do, 

For well I know he was unnatural. 



184 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

Eos. But, to Orlando : did he leave liim there, 
Food to the sucked and hungry lioness ? 

Oil. Twice did he turn his back and purposed 
so; 
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, 
130 And nature, stronger than his just occasion, 
Made him give battle to the lioness. 
Who quickly fell before him ; in which hurtling 
From miserable slumber I awaked. 

Cel. Are you his brother ? 

Eos. Was't you he rescued ? 

Cel. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill 
him ? 

Oil. 'Twas I ; but 'tis not I : I do not shame 
To tell you what I was, since my conversion 
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. 

Ros. But, for the bloody napkin ? 

OH. By and by. 

140 When from the first to last betwixt us two 

Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed, 
As how 1 came into that desert place : — 
In brief, he led me to the gentle duke, 
Who gave me fresh array and entertainment. 
Committing me unto my brother's love ; 
Who led me instantly unto his cave, 
There stripped himself, and here upon his arm 
The lioness had torn some flesh away. 
Which all this while had bled ; and now he fainted 
150 And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. 

Brief, I recovered him, bound up his wound ; 



Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 185 

And, after some small space, being strong at heart, 
He sent me hither, stranger as I am. 
To tell this story, that you might excuse 
His broken promise, and to give this napkin 
D^^ed in his blood unto the shepherd youth 
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. 

[Rosalind swoons. 

Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede ! sweet Gany- 
mede ! 

on. Many will swoon when they do look on 
blood. 
i6o Cel. There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede ! 

Oli. Look, he recovers. 

Ros. I would 1 were at home. 

Cel. We'll lead you thither. 

I pray you, will you take him by the arm ? 

Oli. Be of good cheer, youth : you a man ! you 
lack a man's heart. 

Ros. T do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body 
would think this was well counterfeited ! I pray 
you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited. 
Heigh-ho ! 
170 Oli. This was not counterfeit : there is too 
great testimony in your complexion that it was a 
passion of earnest. 

Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you. 

Oli. Well, then, take a good heart and counter- 
feit to be a man. 

Ros. So I do : but, i' faith, I should have been 
a woman by right. 



186 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

Cel. Come, you look paler and paler : pray you, 
draw homewards. Good sir, go with us. 
i8o OH. That will I, for I must bear answer back 
How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. 

Bos. 1 shall devise something : but, I pray you, 
commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you 
go ? l^Uxeunt. 

ACT V 

Scene I. The forest 
Enter Touchstone and Audrey 

Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey ; patience, 
gentle Audrey. 

Aud. Faith, the priest was good enough, for all 
the old gentleman's saying. 

Touch. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a 
most vile Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth 
here in the forest lays claim to you. 

Aud. Aye, I know who 'tis ; he hath no inter- 
est in me in the world : here comes the man you 
10 mean. 

Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a 
clowu 1 : by ni}^ troth, we that have good wits 
have much to answer for ; we shall be flouting ; 
we cannot hold. 

Enter William 

Will. Good even, Audrey. 

Aud. God ye good even, William. 

1 a commou country fellow. 



Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 187 

Will. And good even to you, sir. 

Touch. Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy 
head, cover thy head ; nay, prithee, be covered. 
20 How old are you, friend? 

Will. Five and twenty, sir. 

Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name William ? 

Will. William, sir. 

Touch. A fair name. Wast born i' the forest 
here? 

Will. Aye, sir, I thank God. 

Touch. " Thank God " ; a good answer. Art 
rich ? 

Will. Faith, sir, so so. 
30 Touch. " So so " is good, very good, very excel- 
lent good ; and yet it is not ; it is but so so. Art 
thou wise ? 

Will. Aye, sir, I have a pretty wit. 

Touch. Why, thou sayest well. I do now re- 
member a saying, " The fool doth think he is wise, 
but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.'' The 
heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a 
grape, would open his lips when he put it into 
his mouth ; meaning thereby that grapes were 
40 made to eat and lips to open. You do love this 
maid ? 

Will. I do, sir. 

Touch. Give me your hand. Art thou learned ? 

Will. No, sir. 

Touch. Then learn this of me : to have, is to 
have; for it is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being 



188 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the 
one doth empty the other ; for all your writers do 
consent that ipse is he : now, you are not ipse, for 

50 T am he. 

Will. Which he, sir ? 

Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman. 
Therefore, you clown, abandon, — which is in the 
vulgar leave, — the society, — which in the boor- 
ish is company, — of this female, — which in the 
common is woman ; which together is, abandon 
the society of this female, or, clown, thou perish- 
est ; or, to thy better understanding, diest ; or, to 
Avit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life 

60 into death, thy liberty into bondage : I will deal 
in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel ; 
I will bandy with thee in faction ; I will o'er-run 
thee with policy ; I will kill thee a hundred and 
fifty ways : therefore tremble, and depart. 
Aud. Do, good William. 
Will. God rest you merry, sir. [^Uxit. 

Enter Corin 
Cor. Our master and mistress seeks you ; come, 
away, away ! 

Touch. Trip, Audrey ! trip, Audrey ! I attend, 
70 1 attend. \_Exeunt. 

Scene II. The forest 

Enter Orlando and Oliver 
Orl. Is't possible that on so little acquaintance 
you should like her ? that but seeing you should 



Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 189 

love her ? and loving woo ? and, wooing, she should 
grant ? and will you persever to enjoy her ? 

on. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, 
the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my 
sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting ; but 
say with me, I love Aliena ; say with her that she 
loves me ; consent with both that we may enjoy 
lo each other : it shall be to your good ; for my 
father's house and all the revenue that was old 
Sir Rowland's will I estate upon you, and here 
live and die a shepherd. 

Orl. You have my consent. Let your wedding 
be to-morroAV : thither will I invite the duke and 
all's contented followers. Go you and prepare 
Aliena ; for look you, here comes my Rosalind. 

Enter Rosalind 
Ros. God save you, brother. 
on. And you, fair sister. \^Exit. 

20 Ros. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to 
see thee wear thy heart in a scarf ! 
Orl. It is my arm. 

Ros. I thought thy heart had been wounded 
with the claws of a lion. 

Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a 
lady. 

Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counter- 
feited to swoon when he showed me your hand- 
kercher ? 
30 Orl. Aye, and greater wonders than that. 



190 IIAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act V 

Ros. O, 1 know where you are : ^ nay, 'tis true : 
there was never anything so sudden but the fight 
of two rams and Csesar's thrasonical brag of " I 
came, saw, and overcame " : for your brother and 
my sister no sooner met but they looked, no sooner 
looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they 
sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one 
another the reason, no sooner knew the reason 
but they sought the remed}^ ; and in these de- 

^o grees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage 
wliich they will climb incontinent : they are in 
the very Avrath of love and they will together ; 
clubs cannot part them. 

Orl. They shall be married to-morrow, and I 
will bid the duke to the nuptial. But, O, how 
bitter a thing it is to look into liappiness through 
another man's eyes ! By so much the more shall 
I to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, 
by how much I shall think my brother happy in 

50 having wliat he wishes for. 

Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your 
turn for Rosalind? 

Orl. I cau live no longer by thinking. ^ 
Ros. I will weary you no longer with idle talk- 
ing. Know of me then, for now I speak to some 
purpose, that I know you are a gentleman of good 
conceit : I S2:)eak not this tliat you should bear a 
good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch I say I 

1 What you mean. 

2 Like the Lady of Shalott, he is sick of shadows. 



Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT' 191 

know you are ; neither do I labor for a greater 
60 esteem than may in some little measure draw a 
belief from you, to do yourself good and not to 
grace me. Believe then, if you please, that I can 
do strange things : I have, since I was three year 
old, conversed with a magician, most profound in 
his art and yet not damnable. If you do love 
Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it 
out, when your brother marries Aliena, shall you 
marry her : I know into what straits of fortune 
she is driven ; and it is not impossible to me, if it 
70 appear not inconvenient to you, to set her before 
your eyes to-morrow human as she is and without 
any danger. 

Orl. Speakest thou in sober meanings ? 
Mos. By my life, I do ; which I tender dearly, 
though I say I am a magician. Therefore, put 
you in your best array ; bid your friends ; for if 
3^ou will be married to-morrow, you shall, and to 
Rosalind, if you will. 

Unter SiLVius and Phebe 

Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of 
hers. 
80 Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungentle- 
ness, 
To show the letter that I writ to you. 

Hos. I care not if I have : it is my study 
To seem despiteful and ungentle to you : 
You are there followed by a faitliful shepherd ; 



192 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

Look upon liim, love him ; he worships you. 

Phe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis 
to love. 

Sil. It is to be all made of siglis and tears ; 
And so am I for Phebe. 

Phe. And I for Ganymede. 
90 0)4. And I for Rosalind. 

Bos. And I for no woman. 

Sil. It is to be all made of faith and service : 
And so am I for Phebe. 

Phe. And I for Ganymede. 

Orl. And I for Rosalind. 

Hos. And I for no woman. 

Sil. It is to be all made of fantasy, 
All made of passion and all made of wishes, 
All adoration, duty, and observance, 
100 All humbleness, all patience and impatience. 
All purity, all trial, all observance ; 
And so am I for Phebe. 

Phe. And so am I for Ganymede. 

Orl. And so am I for Rosalind. 

Pos. And so am I for no woman. 

Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to love 
you? 

Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to love 
you ? 
no Orl. If this be so, why blame jon me to love 
you ? 

Ros. Why do you speak too, "Why blame you 
me to love you " ? 



Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 193 

Orl. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. 

Bos. Pray you, no more of this ; 'tis like the 
howling of Irish wolves against the moon. \_To 
SiL.] I will help you, if I can : [To Phe.] I would 
love you, if I could. To-morrow meet me all 
together. \_To Phe.] I will marry you, if ever I 
120 marry woman, and I'll be married to-morrow: 
[To Orl.] I will satisfy you, if ever I satisfied 
man, and you shall be married to-morrow : \^To 
SiL.] I will content you, if what pleases you con- 
tents you, and you shall be married to-morrow. 
\_To Orl.] As you love Rosalind, meet : ^To Sil.] 
as you love Phebe, meet : and as I love no woman, 
I'll meet. So fare you well : I have left you 
commands. 

Sil I'll not fail, if I live. 
130 Phe. Nor I. 

Orl. Nor I. [Uxeunt. 

Scene III. The forest 

Enter Touchstone and Audrey 
Touch. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey ; 

to-morrow will we be married. 

And. I do desire it with all my heart ; and I 

hope it is no dishonest desire to desire to be a 

woman of the world. Here come two of the 

banished duke's pages. 

Enter two Pages 
First Page. Well met, honest gentleman. 



194 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

Touch. By my troth, well met. Come, sit, 
sit, and a song. 
10 Second Page. We are for you : sit i' the middle. 

First Page. Shall we clap into 't roundly, with- 
out hawking or sjDitting or saying we are hoarse, 
which are the only prologues to a bad voice ? 

Second Page. V faith, i' faith ; and both in 
a tune, like two gypsies on a horse. 

Song 

It was a lover and his lass. 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino. 
That o'er the green corn-field did pass 

In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, 
20 When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding : 
Sweet lovers love the spring. 

Between the acres of the rye. 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino. 
These pretty country folks would lie. 

In spring time, etc. 

This carol they began that hour. 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino. 

How that a life was but a flower 
In spring time, etc. 

30 And therefore take the present time. 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino ; 
For love is crowned with the prime 
In spring time, etc. 



Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 195 

Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though there 
was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was 
very untuneable. 

First Page. You are deceived, sir : we kept 
time, we lost not our time. 

Touch. By my troth, yes ; I count it but time 
40 lost to hear such a foolish song. God be wi' you; 
and God mend your voices ! Come, Audrey. 

[^FJxeunt. 

Scene IV. The forest 

Enter Duke senior, Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, 
Oliver, and Celia 

Buke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the 
boy 
Can do all this that he hath promised? 

Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do 
not; 
As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. 

Enter Rosalind, Silvius, and Phebe 

Ros. Patience once more, whiles our compact is 
urged ; 
You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, 
You will bestow her on Orlando here ? 

Duke S. That would I, had I kingdoms to give 

with her. 
Ros. And you say, you will have her, when I 
bring her? 



196 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

10 Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. 
Hos. You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing? 
Phe. That will I, should I die the hour after. 
Hos. But if you do refuse to marry me, 
You'll give yourself to this most faithful shep- 
herd ? 
Phe. So is the bargain. 
Mos. You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she 

will? 
Sil. Though to have her and death were both 

one thing. 
JRos. I have promised to make all this matter 
even. 
Keep you your w^ord, O duke, to give your 
daughter ; 
20 You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter : 
Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me. 
Or else refusing me, to wed this shepherd : 
Keep your word, Silvius, that 3^ou'll marry her. 
If she refuse me : and from hence I go. 
To make these doubts all even. 

[Uxeimt Rosalind and Celia. 
Duke S. I do remember in this shepherd boy 
Some lively touches of my daughter's favor. 

Orl. My lord, the first time that I ever saw 
him 
Methought he was a brother to your daughter: 
3° But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, 
And hath been tutored in the rudiments 
Of many desperate studies by his uncle. 



Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 197 

Whom he reports to be a great magician, 
Obscured in the circle of this forest. 

U7ite7' Touchstone and Audrey 

Jaq. There is, sure, another flood toward, and 
these couples are coming to the ark. Here comes 
a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues 
are called fools. 

Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all ! 
40 Jaq. Good my lord, bid him w^elcome : this is 
the motley-minded gentleman that I have so often 
met in the forest: he hath been a courtier, he swears. 

Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put me 
to my purgation. 1 I have trod a measure ; I have 
flattered a lady ; I have been politic with my 
friend, smooth with mine enemy ; 1 have undone 
three tailors ; I have had four quarrels, and like to 
have fought one. 

Jaq. And how was that ta'en up? 
50 Touch. Faith, we met, and found the quarrel 
was upon the seventh cause. 

Jaq. How seventh cause? Good my lord, like 
this fellow. 

I>uke S. I like him very well. 

Touch. God 'ild you, sir; I desire you of the 
like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the 
country copulatives, to swear and to forswear; 

1 Purgation was a legal trial whereby one publicly cleaned 
one's self from guilt of which one was accused. It was sometimes 
ecclesiastical, as by taking oath, sometimes legal, as in the trial by 
combat or otherwise. 



198 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

according as marriage binds and blood breaks : a 
poor virgin, sir, an ill-favored thing, sir, but mine 
60 own ; a poor liumor of mine, sir, to take that that 
no man else will : rich honesty dwells like a miser, 
sir, in a poor house ; as your pearl in your foul oyster. 

Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and 
sententious. 

Touch. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and 
such dulcet diseases. 

Jaq. But, for the seventh cause ; how did you 
find the quarrel on the seventh cause ? 

Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed : — 
70 bear your body more seeming, Audrey : — as thus, 
sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's 
beard : he sent me word, if I said his beard was 
not cut well, he was in the mind it was : this is 
called the Retort Courteous. If I sent him word 
again "it was not well cut," he would send me 
word, he cut it to please himself : this is called 
the Quip Modest. If again " it was not well cut," 
he disabled my judgment : this is called the Reply 
Churlish. If again " it was not well cut," he 
80 would answer, 1 spake not true : this is called the 
Reproof Valiant. If again " it was not well cut," 
he would say I lied : this is called the Counter- 
check Quarrelsome : and so to the Lie Circum- 
stantial and the Lie Direct. 

Jaq. And how often did you say his beard was 
not well cut ? 

Touch. I durst go no further than the Lie Cir- 



Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 199 

cumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie 
Direct ; and so we measured swords and parted. 

90 Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the 
deoTces of the lie? 

Touch. O, sir, we quarrel in print, by the book ; 
as you have books for good manners: I will name 
you the degrees. The first, the Retort Courteous; 
the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the Reply 
Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the 
fifth, the Countercheck Quarrelsome; the sixth, 
the Lie with Circumstance ; the seventh, the Lie 
Direct. All these you may avoid but the Lie 

100 Direct ; and you may avoid that too, with an If. 
I. knew when seven justices could not take up a 
quarrel, but when the parties were met themselves, 
one of them thought but of an If, as, ''If you said 
so, then I said so " ; and they shook hands and 
swore brothers. Your If is the only peace-maker; 
much virtue in If. 

Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord ? he's as 
good at anything and yet a fool. 

Buke S. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse 

no and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit. 

Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and Celia^ 

Still Music 
Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven, 
When earthly things made even 

1 This seems to be a sort of pageant invented by Rosalind to 
carry out her idea. 



200 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act V 

Atone ^ together. 
Good duke, receive thy daugliter : 
Hymen from heaven brought her. 

Yea, brouglit her hither. 
That thou mightst join her hand with his 
Whose heart within her bosom is. 
Mos. \_To duke'] To you I give myself, for I am 
yours. 
120 \_To Orl.] To you I give myself, for I am yours. 
Buke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my 

daughter. 
Orl. If there be trutli in sight, you are my 

Rosalind. 
Phe. If sight and shape be true, 
Why then, my love, adieu ! 

Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he : 
I'll have no husband, if you be not he : 
Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. 
Hym. Peace, ho ! I bar confusion : 
'Tis I must make conclusion 
130 Of these most strange events : 

Here's eight that must take hands 
To join in Hymen's bands, 

If truth holds true contents. 
You and you no cross shall part : 
You ajid you are heart in heart : 
You to his love must accord, 
Or have a woman to your lord : 

1 The word has here its original, nou-techuical meaning of " are 
at one." 



Scene lY] AS YOU LIKE IT 201 

You and you are sure together, 
As the winter to foul weather. 
140 Whiles a wedlock hymn we sing, 

Feed yourselves with questioning ; 
That reason wonder may diminish. 
How thus we met, and these things finish. 

Song 

Wedding is great Juno's crown : 

O blessed bond of board and bed ! 
'Tis Hymen peoples every town ; 

High wedlock then be honored: 
Honor, high honor and renown. 
To Hymen, god of every town ! 
150 Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me ! 
Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. 

Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art 
mine ; 
Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. 

Unter Jaques de Boys 
Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or 
two : 
I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, 
That bring these tidings to this fair assembly. 
Duke Frederick, hearing how that very day 
Men of great worth resorted to this forest. 
Addressed a mighty power,^ which were on foot, 
160 In his own conduct, purposely to take 

1 prepared an army. 



202 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

His brother here and put him to the sword : 
And to the skirts of this wild wood he came : 
Where meeting with an old religious man, 
After some question with him, was converted 
Both from his enterprise and from the Avorld, 
His crown bequeathing to his banished brother, 
And all their lands restored to them again 
That were with him exiled. This to be true, 
I do engage my life. 

Duke S. Welcome, young man ; 

170 Thou oifer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding, 
To one his lands withheld, and to the other 
A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. 
First, in this forest let us do those ends 
That here were well begun and well begot : 
And after, every of this happy number 
That have endured shrewd days and nights with 

us 
Shall share the good of our returned fortune. 
According to the measure of their states. 
Meantime, forget this new-falFn dignity 
180 And fall into our rustic revelry. 

Play, music. And you, brides and bridegrooms 

all. 
With measure heaped in joy, to the measures fall. 

Jaq. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you 
rightly. 
The duke hath put on a religious life 
And thrown into neglect the pompous court. 

Jaq. de B. He hath. 



Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 203 

Jaq. To him will I : out of these convertites 
There is much matter to be heard and learned. 
ITo duke] You to your former honor I bequeath: 
190 Your patience and your virtue well deserves it : 
[ To Orl. ] You to a love that your true faith doth 

merit : 
\_ToOli.] You to your land and love and great 

allies : 
\^To SU.~\ You to a long and well-deserved bed: 
\_To Touch.] And you to wrangling ; for thy lov- 
ing voyage 
Is but for two months victualled. So, to your 

pleasures : 
I am for other than for dancing measures.^ 

Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay. 

Jaq. To see no pastime I : what you would have 

I'll stay to know at your abandoned cave. \_Uxit. 

200 Duke S. Proceed, proceed : we will begin these 

rites, 

As we do trust they'll end, in true delights. 

\_A dance. 

Epilogue 2 

Bos. It is not the fashion to see the lady the 
epilogue ; but it is no more unhandsome than to 

1 Jaques is the only one who is at all consistent. The eagerness 
with which all rush back to their former positions, shows the hol- 
lowuess of all such protestations as the speech of the Duke (II., i., 
1) or such glamourings as the song of Amiens (II., v., 1, 39). 

2 As You Like It, like A Midsummer-Night's Dream and The 
Tempest, has an epilogue, and in each case the object is the same, 
to conciliate the audience and gain their applause. 



204 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V, Sc. IV 

see the lord the prologue. If it be true that good 
wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs 
no epilogue ; yet to good wine they do use good 
bushes, and good plays prove the better by the 
help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, 
that am neither a good epilogue nor cannot insinu- 
ate with you in the behalf of a good play ! I am 
10 not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will 
not become me : my way is to conjure you ; and 
I'll begin with tlie women. I charge you, O 
women, for the love you bear to men, to like as 
much of this play as please you : and I charge you, 

men, for the love you bear to women — as I per- 
ceive by your simpering, none of you hates them 
— that between you and the women the play may 
please. If I were a woman I would kiss as many 
of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions 

20 that liked me and breaths that I defied not ; and, 

1 am sure, as many as have good beards or good 
faces or sweet breaths will, for my kind offer, when 
I make curtsy, bid me farewell. lUxeunt. 



THE TEMPEST 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 

Aloxso, King of Naples. 

Sebastiax, his brother. 

Prospero, the right Duke of Milan. 

Antonio, his brother, the usurphig Duke of Milan. 

Ferdinand, sou to the King of Naples. 

GoNZALO, an honest old Counselor. 

Adrian, 1 ^ 

„ V Lords. 

Francisco, j 

Caliban, a savage and deformed Slave. 

Trinculo, a* Jester. 

Stephano, a drunken Butler. 

Master of a Ship. 

Boatswain. 

Mariners. 

Miranda, daughter to Prospero. 

Ariel, an airj- Spirit. 

Iris, 

Ceres, 

Juno, [ presented by Spirits 

Nymphs, 

Reapers, 

Other Spirits attending on Prospero.^ 

Scene : A ship at sea : an Island. 



THE TEMPEST 



ACT I 

Scene I. On a ship at sea; a tempestuous noise of 
thunder and lightning heard ^ 

Enter a Ship-Master and a Boatswain. 

Mast. Boatswain ! 
Boats. Here, master : what cheer ? 
Mast. Good, speak to the mariners : fall to 't, 
yarely, or we run ourselves aground : bestir, bestir. 

[^Exit. 
Enter Mariners 

Boats. Heigh, my hearts ! cheerly, cheerly, my 
hearts I yare, yare ! Take in the topsail. Tend 
to the master's whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy 
wind, if room enough ! ^ 

1 This scene is an introduction to the rest of the play, in that it 
accounts for all the strangers' being upon the island. It is not 
like a prologue, however, for it does not explain what it is needful 
to understand to have the mutual position of the characters : Pros- 
pero does that himself in sc. ii. 

2 It has been said by sailors that these orders have each some 
significance, and that an intelligent one. The ship is evidently 
being blown on the rocks of a lee shore ; the boatswain takes in 
sail, and tries to get to sea (1. 50), knowing that if he have sea- 
room (1. 8) he can stand any wind. But she makes too much lee- 
way and gets on the rocks. 

207 



208 nAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdi- 
nand, GoNZALO, and others 

Alon. Good boatswain, have care. Where's 
10 the master ? Play the men. 

Boats. I pray now, keep below. 

Ant. Where is the master, boatswain ? 

Boats. Do you not hear him ? You mar our 
labor : keep your cabins : you do assist the storm. 

G-071. Nay, good, be patient. 

Boats. When the sea is. Hejice ! What cares 
these roarers for the name of king ! To cabin : 
silence ! trouble us not. 

Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast 
20 aboard. 

Boats. None that I more love than myself. 
You are a counselor ; if you can command these 
elements to silence, and work the peace of the 
present, we will not hand a rope more ; use your 
authority : if you cannot, give thanks you have 
lived so long, and make yourself ready in your 
cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap. 
Cheerly, good hearts I Out of our way, I say. 

^Exit. 

Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow : 
3omethinkshe hath no drowning mark upon him; 
his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, 
good Fate, to his hanging : make the rope of his 
destiny our cable, for our own doth little advan- 
tage. If he be not born to be hanged, our case is 
miserable. \^Exeunt 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 209 

Re-enter Boatswain 

Boats. Down with the topmast ! yare ! lower, 
k)wei' I Bring lier to try Avith main-course. [A 
cry tvitJmi.] A plague upon this howling ! they 
are louder than the Aveather or our office. 

Re-enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo 

40 Yet again ! what do you here ? Shall we give o'er 
and drown ? Have you a mind to sink ? 

Seh. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphe- 
mous, in charitable dog ! 
Boats. Work you then. 

Ant. Hang, cur ! hang, you insolent noise- 
maker ! 
We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. 
G-on. I'll warrant him for drowning ; though 
' the ship were no stronger than a nutshell. 

Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold ! set her two 
50 courses off to sea again ; lay her off. 

Enter Mariners ivet 

Mariners. All lost ! to prayers, to prayers ! all 

lost ! 
Boats. What, must our mouths be cold ? 
Go7i. The king and prince at prayers ! let's 

assist them. 
For our case is as theirs. 

Seh. I'm out of patience. 

Ant. We are merely cheated of our lives by 

drunkards : 



210 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

This wide -chapped rascal — would thou mightst 

lie drowning 
The washing of ten tides ! 

Gron. He'll be hanged yet, 

Though every drop of water swear against it 
And gape at widest to glut him. 

[A eo?ifused 7ioise ivithhi : " Mercy on us ! " — 
60 " We split, we split ! " — " Farewell my wife and 
children ! " — 
" Farewell, brother ! " — " We split, we split, we 
split ! "] 
Ant. Let's all sink with the king. 
Seb. Let's take leave of him. 

\_ExeAint Ant. and Seb. 

Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of 

sea for an acre of barren ground, long heath, brown 

furze, any thing. The wills above be done ! but 

I would fain die a dry death. [Exeunt. 

Scene IL The island.^ Before Prospeeo's cell 
Enter Prospero and Miranda 
Mir. If by your art, my dearest father, you ^ have 
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. 

1 Much speculation has been spun upon the question where the 
island was. Mr. Rudyard Kipling of late revived the idea, based 
on some geographical resemblances, that it was one of the Ber- 
mudas. But one of the few real allusions to places makes it sure 
that the island was not one of the Bermudas: once when Prospero 
wanted dew from the Bermudas (I., ii., 229) he sent Ariel for it. 
Naturally we should suppose that the island was somewhere be- 
tween Tunis, whence the fleet set sail, and Naples, whither it was 
bound. It does not appear that they had been blown far from their 
course. 2 xhis is the emphatic word. 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 211 

The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking 

pitch. 
But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's 

cheek. 
Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered 
With those that I saw suffer : a brave vessel. 
Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her. 
Dashed all to pieces. O, the cry did knock 
Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perished. 
10 Had I been any god of power, I would 
Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere 
It should the good ship so have swallowed and 
The fraughting souls within her. 

Pros. Be collected : 

No more amazement : tell your piteous heart 
There's no harm done. 

Mir. O, woe the day ? 

Pros. No harm. 

I have done nothing but in care of thee, 
Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who 
Art ignorant of what thou art, naught knowing 
Of whence I am, nor that I am more better 
20 Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell. 
And thy no greater father. 

Mir. More to know 

Did never meddle with ni}^ thoughts. 

Pros. 'Tis time 

I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand. 
And pluck my magic garment from me. So : 

\_Lai/s doivn his mantle. 



212 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

Lie there, my art.^ Wipe thou thine eyes ; have 

comfort. 
The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touched 
The very virtue of compassion in thee, 
I have with such provision in mine art 
So safely ordered that there is no soul — 
30 No, not so much perdition as an hair 
Betid to any creature in the vessel 
Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. 

Sit down ; 
For thou must noAv know farther. 

Mi7\ You have often 

Begun to tell me what I am, but stopped 
And left me to a bootless inquisition. 
Concluding "Stay : not 3^et." 

P7^os. The hour's now come ; 

The very minute bids thee ope thine ear ; 
Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember 
A time before we came unto this cell ? 
40 1 do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not 
Out three years old. 

Mir. Certainly, sir, I can. 

Pros, By what ? by any other house or person ? 
Of anything the image tell me that 
Hath kept with thy remembrance. 

Mir. 'Tis far ofe 

And rather like a dream than an assurance 
That my remembrance warrants. Had I not 
Four or five Avomen once that tended me ? 

1 His mantle was the means and symbol of his magic art. 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 213 

Pros. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But 
how is it 
That this lives in thy mind ? What seest thou else 
50 In the dark backward and abysm of time ? 
If thou remember'st aught ere thou camest here, 
How thou camest here thou mayst. 

Mir. But that I do not. 

Pros. Twelve years since, Miranda, twelve 
years since. 
Thy father was the Duke of Milan and 
A prince of power.. 

Mir. Sir, are not you my father ? 

Pros. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and 
She said thou wast my daughter ; and thy father 
Was Duke of Milan ; and thou his only heir 
And princess no worse issued. 

Mir. O the heavens ! 

60 What foul play did we, that we came from thence ? 
Or blessed was't we did ? 

Pros. Both, both, my girl : 

By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence, 
But blessedly holp hither. 

Mir. O, my heart bleeds 

To think o' the teen that I have turned you to. 
Which is from my remembrance ! Please you 
farther. 
Pros. My brother and thy uncle, called An- 
tonio — ^ 

1 This speech and those following are characteristic of Shake- 
speare's later style. They are so full of thought that they are 



214 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS. [Act I 

I pray thee, mark me — that a brother should 
Be so perfidious ! — he whom next thyself 
Of all the world I loved and to him put 
70 The manage of my state ; as at that time 
Through all the signories it was the first 
And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed 
In dignity, and for the liberal arts 
Without a parallel ; those being all my study. 
The government I cast upon my brother 
And to my state grew stranger, being transported 
And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle — 
Dost thou attend me ? 

Mir. Sir, most heedfuUy. 

Pros. Being once perfected how to grant suits, 
80 How to deny them, who to advance and who 
To trash for over-topping, new created 
The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em. 
Or else new formed 'em ; having both the key 
Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state 
To what tune pleased his ear ; that now he was 
The ivy which had hid my princely trunk. 
And sucked my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st 
not. 

Mir. O, good sir, I do. 

Pros. I pray tliee, mark me. 

sometimes very loose in grammatical structure. That is, the elabo- 
rate idea is expressed in all sorts of modifyhig words and clauses, 
so that even correctness of construction is sometimes lost sight of, 
as in 11. 97-103 where the general meaning is quite plain. Cases of 
the same sort are not rare in this play, as 1. 327 of this scene ; 11., 
i.,132; III., i., 15. 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 215 

I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated 
90 To closeness and the bettering of my mind 
With that which, but by being so retired, 
O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother 
Awaked an evil nature ; and my trust, 
Like a good parent, did beget of him 
A falsehood in its contrary as great 
As my trust was ; which had indeed no limit, 
A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded, 
Not only with what my revenue yielded. 
But what my power might else exact, like one 
100 Who having into truth, by telling of it, 
Made such a sinner of his memory. 
To credit his own lie, he did believe 
He was indeed the duke ; out o' the substitu- 
tion. 
And executing the outward face of royalty. 
With all prerogative : hence his ambition grow- 
ing- 
Dost thou hear ? 

Mir. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. 

Pros. To have no screen between this part he 
played 
And him he played it for, he needs will be 
Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library 
no Was dukedom large enough : of temporal royalties 
He thinks me now incapable ; confederates — 
So dry he was for sway — wi' the King of Naples 
To give him annual tribute, do him homage, 
Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend 



216 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

The dukedom yet unbowed — alas, poor Milan ! — 
To most ignoble stooping. 

Mir. O the heavens ! 

Pros. Mark liis condition and the event ; then 
tell me 
If this might be a brother. 

3Iir. I should sin 

To think but nobly of my grandmother : 
120 (xood wombs have borne bad sons. 

Pros. Now the condition. 

This King of Naples, being an enemy 
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit ; 
Which was, that he, in lieu o' the premises 
Of homage and I know not how much tribute. 
Should presently extirpate me and mine 
Out of the dukedom and confer fair Milan 
With all tlie honors on my brother : whereon, 
A treacherous army levied, one midnight 
Fated to the purpose did Antonio open 
130 The gates of ]\Iilan, and, i' the dead of darkness, 
The ministers for the purpose hurried thence 
Me and thy crying self. 

Mir. Alack, for pity ! 

I, not remembering how I cried out then. 
Will cry it o'er again : it is a hint 
That wrings mine eyes to 't. 

Pros. Hear a little further 

And then I'll bring thee to the present business 
Which now's upon's ; without the which this story 
Were most impertinent. 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 217 

Mir. Wherefore did they not 

That hour destroy us? 

Pros. Well demanded, wench : 

140 My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst 
not. 
So dear the love my people bore me, nor set 
A mark so bloody on the business, but 
With colors fairer painted their foul ends. 
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark, 
Bore us some leagues to sea ; where they prepared 
A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigged, 
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast ; the very rats 
Instinctively have quit it: there they hoist us. 
To cry to the sea that roared to us, to sigh 
150 To the winds whose pity, sighing back again. 
Did us but loving wrong. 

Mir. Alack, what trouble 

Was I tlien to you ! 

Pros. O, a cherubin ^ 

Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile. 
Infused with a fortitude from heaven, 
When I have decked the sea with drops full salt. 
Under my burthen groaned ; which raised in me 
An undergoing stomach, to bear up 
Against what should ensue. 

Mir. How came we ashore? 

Pros. By Providence divine. 
t6o Some food we had and some fresh water that 

1 This word, which looks like the Hebrew plural in -im, is prob- 
ably borrowed from the French singular of the same form. 



218 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, 
Out of his charity, who being then appointed 
Master of this design, did give us, with 
Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries. 
Which since have steaded much ; so, of his gentle- 
ness. 
Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me 
From mine own library with volumes that 
I prize above my dukedom. 

Mir. Would I might 

But ever see that man ! 

Pros. Now I arise: 

[Besumes Ms mantle. 
170 Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorroAv. 
Here in this island we arrived ; and here 
Have T, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit 
Than other princesses can that have more time 
For vainer hours and tutors not so careful. 

Mir. Heavens thank you for't ! And now, I 
pray you, sir. 
For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason 
For raising this sea-storm? 

Pros. Know thus far forth. 

By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, 
Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies 
180 Brought to this shore ] and by my prescience 
I find my zenith doth depend upon 
A most auspicious star, whose influence 
If now I court not but omit, my fortunes 
Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions: 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 219 

Thou art inclined to sleep: 'tis a good dullness, 
And give it way: I know thou canst not choose. 

[Miranda sleeps. 
Come away, servant, come. I am ready now. 
Approacli, my Ariel, come. 

Enter Ariel 
Ari, All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I 
come 
lyo To answer thy best pleasure ; be't to fly. 
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride 
On the curled clouds, to thy strong bidding task 
Ariel and all his quality. 

Pros. Hast thou, spirit. 

Performed to point the tempest that I bade thee ? 

Ari. To every article. 
I boarded the king's ship ; now on the beak, 
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, 
I flamed amazement : sometime Fid divide, 
And burn in many places ; on the topmast, 
200 The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly. 
Then meet and join.^ Jove's lightnings, the pre- 
cursors 
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary 
And sight-outrunning were not ; the fire and cracks 
Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune 
Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble. 
Yea, his dread trident shake. 



1 Shakespeare had in mind an actual phenomenon called "St. 
Elmo's fire." 



220 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

Pros. My brave spirit ! 

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil 
Would not infect his reason ? 

Ari. Not a soul 

But felt a fever of the mad and played 
210 Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners 
Plunged in the foaming brine and quit tlie vessel. 
Then all afire with me : the king's son, Ferdinand, 
With hair up-staring, — then like reeds, not hair, — 
Was the first man that leaped ; cried, " Hell is 

empty. 
And all the devils are here." 

Pros. Why, that's my spirit ! 

But was not this nigh shore ? 

A7'i. Close by, my master. 

Pros. But are they, Ariel, safe? 

Ari. Not a hair perished ; 

On their sustaining garments not a blemish. 
But fresher than before : and, as tliou badest me, 
220 In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle. 
The king's son have I landed by himself ; 
Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs 
In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting. 
His arms in this sad knot. 

Pros. Of the king's ship, 

The mariners, say how thou hast disposed 
And all the rest o' the fleet. 

Ari. Safely in harbor 

Is the king's ship ; in the deep nook, where once 
Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 221 

From the still-vexed Berinoothes, there she's hid : 
230 The mariners all under hatches stowed ; 

Who, with a charm joined to their suffered labor, 

I have left asleep : and for the rest o' the fleet 

Which I dispersed, they all have met again 

And are upon the Mediterranean flote, 

Bound sadly home for Naples, 

Supposing that they saw the king's ship wrecked 

And his great person perish. 

Pros. Ariel, thy charge 

Exactly is performed : but there's more work. 
What is the time o' the day ? 

Ari. Past the mid season. 

240 Pros. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt 
six and now ^ 
Must by us both be spent most preciously. 

Ari. Is there more toil ? Since thou dost give 
me pains. 
Let me remember thee what thou hast promised, 
Which is not yet performed me. 

Pros. How now ? moody ? 

What is't thou canst demand ? 

Ari. My liberty. 

Pros. Before the time be out ? no more ! 

1 By the indications of time we see that the action of the play 
is hardly longer than the time actually taken in acting. The three 
unities, as they were called, of time, place, and action, are pre- 
served. Shakespeare as a rule paid little attention to such matters: 
in this, almost his last play, he may have amused himself by easily 
observing dramatic restrictions that he previously had held not 
worth a thought. 



222 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

A7'i. I prithee, 

Remember I have done thee worthy service ; 
Tohl thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served 
Without or grudge or grumblings : thou didst 
promise 
250 To bate me a full year. 

Pros. Dost thou forget 

From what a torment I did free thee ? 

Ari. No. 

Pros. Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread 
the ooze 
Of the salt deep, 

To run upon the sharp wind of the north, 
To do me business in the veins o' the earth 
When it is baked with frost. 

Ari. I do not, sir. 

Pros. Thou liest, malignant thing ! Hast thou 
forgot 
The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy 
Was grown into a hoop ? hast thou forgot her ? 
260 Ari. No, sir. 

Pros. Thou hast. Where was she born ? 

speak: tell me. 

Ari. Sir, in Argier. 

Pros. O, Avas she so ? I must 

Once in a month recount Avhat thou hast been. 
Which thou forget'st. This damned witch Sycorax, 
For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible 
To enter human hearing, from Argier, 
Thou know'st, was banished : for one thing she did 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 223 

They would not take her life. Is not this true ? 

Ari. Aye, sir. 

Pros. This blue-eyed hag was hither brought 
with child 
270 And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave, 
As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant ; 
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate 
To act her earthy and abhorred commands, 
Refusing her grand bests, she did confine thee. 
By help of her more potent ministers 
And in her most unmitigable rage, 
Into a cloven pine ; within which rift 
Imprisoned thou didst painfully remain 
A dozen years ; within which space she died 
280 And left thee there : where thou didst vent thy 
groans 
As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this 

island — 
Save for the son that she did litter here, 
A freckled whelp hag-born — not honored with 
A human shape. 

Ari. Yes, Caliban her son. 

Pros. Dull thing, I say so ; he, that Caliban 
Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st 
What torment I did find thee in ; thy groans 
Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts 
Of ever angry bears : it was a torment 
290 To lay upon the damned, which Sycorax 
Could not again undo : it was mine art. 
When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape 



224 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act I 

The pine and let thee out. 

jiri. I thank thee, master. 

Pros. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak 
And peg thee in his knotty entrails till 
Thou hast howled away twelve winters. 

Ari. Pardon, master ; 

I will be correspondent to command 
And do my spiriting gently. 

Pros. Do so, and after two days 

I will discharge thee. 

A?'i. That's my noble master ! 

300 What shall I do ! say what ; what shall I do ? 

Pros. Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea : 
be subject 
To no sight but thine and mine, invisible 
To every eyeball else. Go take this shape 
And hither come in't : go, hence with diligence ! 

[Uxit Ariel. 
Awake, dear heart, awake ! thou hast slept well ; 
Awake I 

Mir. The strangeness of your story put 
Heaviness in me. 

Pros. Shake it off. Come on ; 

We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never 
310 Yields us kind answer. 

Mir. 'Tis a villain, sir, 

I do not love to look on. 

Pros. But, as 'tis, 

We cannot miss him : he does make our fire. 
Fetch in our wood and serves in offices 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 225 

That profit us. What, ho ! slave ! Caliban ! 
Thou earth, thou I speak. 

Cal. [Wit1mi\ There's wood enough within. 

Pros. Come forth, I say ! there's other business 
for thee : 
Come, thou tortoise ! when ? 

Re-enter Ariel like a water nymph 
Fine apparition ! My quaint Ariel, 
Hark in thine ear. 

Ari. My lord, it shall be done. [Exit. 

320 Pros. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil 
himself 
Upon thy wicked dam, come forth ! 

Enter Caliban i 
Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brushed 
With raven's feather from unwholesome fen 
Drop on you both ! a south-west blow on ye 
And blister you all o'er ! 

Pros. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt 
have cramps, 
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up ; urchins 
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work. 
All exercise on thee ; thou shalt be pinched 
330 As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging 
Than bees that made 'em. 

1 Caliban, in spite of the harm he tries to do, is still an attractive 
creature. He is something like a great, awkward, overgrown boy; 
violent, loyal to his self-chosen guides, and (in spite of being ab- 
normal) natural. One ought to read Browning's "Caliban upon 
Setebos." 



226 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

Cal. I must eat my dinner. 

This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, 
Which thou takest from me. When thou camest 

first. 
Thou strok'dst me and mad'st much of me, wouldst 

give me 
Water witli berries in't, and teach me how 
To name the bigger light, and how the less. 
That burn by day and night : and then I loved 

thee 
And showed thee all the qualities o' the isle. 
The fresh- springs, brine-pits, barren place and 

fertile : 
340 Cursed be I that did so ! All the charms 
Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you ! 
For I am all the subjects that you have, 
Which first was mine own king : and here you 

sty me 
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me 
The rest o' the island. 

Pros. Abhorred slave, 

Which any print of goodness wilt not take, 
Being capable of all ill I I pitied thee, 
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each 

hour 
One thing or other : when thou didst not, savage, 
350 Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like 
A thing most brutisli, T endowed thy purposes 
^Vitll words that made them known. But thy vile 

race. 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 227 

Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good 

natures 
Could not abide to be Avith ; therefore wast thou 
Deservedly confined into this rock, 
Who hadst deserved more than a prison. 

Oal. You taught me language; and my profit on't 
Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you 
For learning me your language ! 

Pros. Hag seed, hence ! 

360 Fetch us in fuel ; and be quick, thou'rt best. 

To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice ? 
If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly 
What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps, 
Fill all th}^ bones with aches, make thee roar 
Tliat beasts shall tremble at thy din. 

Cal. No, pray thee. 

[^s^t?e] I must obey : his art is of such power. 
It would control my dam's god, Setebos, 
And make a vassal of him. 

Pros. So, slave ; hence ! \^Exit Caliban. 

Re-enter Ariel, invisible., jylaying and singing ; 
Ferdinand following 

Ariel's song'^ 

Come unto these yellow sands, 
370 And then take hands : 

Courtsied when you have and kissed 
The wild waves whist, 

1 Ariel is now " like a nymph o' the sea." 



228 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act] 

Foot it featly here and there ; 
And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. 
Burthen [^dispersedly']. Hark, hark ! 

Bow-wow. 
The watch-dogs bark i 

Bow-wow. 
Ari. Hark, hark ! I hear 
380 The strain of strutting chanticleer 

Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow. 

Fer. Where should this music be ? i' the air or 
the earth ? 
It sounds no more : and, sure, it waits upon 
Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank, 
Weeping again the king my father's wreck, 
This music crept by me upon the waters, 
Allaying both their fury and my passion 
With its sweet air : thence I have followed it. 
Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone. 
390 No, it begins again. 

Ariel sings 
Full fathom five thy father lies ; 

Of his bones are coral made ; 
Those are pearls that were his eyes : 

Nothino^ of him that doth fade 
But doth suffer a sea-change 
Into something rich and strange. 
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : 

Burthen. Ding-dong. 
Ari. Hark I now I hear them, — Ding-dong, 
bell. 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 229 

400 Fer. The ditty does remember my drowned 
father. 
This is no mortal business, nor no sound 
That the earth owes. I hear it now above me. 

Pros. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance 
And say what thou seest yond. 

Mir. What is't ? a spirit ? 1 

Lord, how it looks about ! Believe me, sir. 
It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit. 

Pros. No, wench ; it eats and sleeps and hath 
such senses 
As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest 
Was in the wreck ; and, but he's something stained 
410 With grief that's beauty's canker, thou mightst 
call him 
A goodly person : he hath lost his fellows 
And strays about to find 'em. 

Mir. I might call him 

A thing divine, for nothing natural 
I ever saw so noble. 

Pros. \^Aside] It goes on, I see, 

As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit I I'll 

free thee 
Within two days for this. 

Fer. Most sure, the goddess 

On whom these airs attend ! Vouchsafe my 

prayer 
May know if you remain upon this island ; 
And that you will some good instruction give 

1 She had seen no man but her father and Caliban. 



230 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 

420 How I may bear me here : my prime request, 
Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder I 
If 3^ou be maid or no ? 

Mi7\ No Avonder, sir ; 

But certainly a maid. 

Fer. ]My language ! heavens.! 

I am the best of them that speak this speech, 
Were I but where 'tis spoken. 

Pros. How ? the best ? " 

What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee ? 

Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders 
To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me ; 
And that he does I Aveep : myself am Naples, 
430 Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld 
The king my father wrecked. 

Mir. Alack, for mercy I 

Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords ; the Duke of 
Milan 
And his brave son being twain. 

Pros. \_Aside~\ The Duke of Milan 

And his more braver daughter could control thee. 
If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight 
They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel, 
I'll set thee free for this. [To Fer.] A w^ord, good 

sir ; 
I fear you have done yourself some wrong : a word. 

Mir. Wh}^ speaks my father so ungently ? This 
440 Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first 
Tliat e'er I sighed for : pity move my father 
To be inclined my way ! 



ScKNElI] THE TEMPEST 231 

Fer. O, if a virgin, 

And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you 
The queen of Naples. 

Pros. Soft, sir ! one word more. 

\_A8ide'] Tliey are both in either's poAvers ; but this 

swift business 
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning 
Make the prize light. [To Fek.] One word more : 

I charge tliee. 
That thou attend me : thou dost here usurp 
The name thou owest not ; and hast put thyself 
450 Upon this island as a spy, to win it 
From me, the lord on't. 

Fer. No, as I am a man. 

Mir. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a 
temple : 
If the ill spirit have so fair a house. 
Good things will strive to dwell with't. 

Pros. Follow me. 

Speak not you for him ; he's a traitor. Come ; 
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together : 
Sea- water shalt thou drink ; tiiy food shall be 
The fresh-brook mussels, withered roots and husks 
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow. 

Fer. No ; 

460 I will resist such entertainment till 
Mine enemy has more power. 

\_Draivs^ ayid is charmed from moving. 

Mir. O dear father, 

Make not too rash a trial of him, for 



232 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I, Sc. II 

He's gentle and not fearful. 

Pros. What ? I say, 

My foot my tutor ! Put thy sword up, traitor ; 
Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy 

conscience 
Is so possessed with guilt : come from thy ward, 
For I can here disarm thee with this stick 
And make thy weapon drop. 

Mir. Beseech you, father. 

Pros. Hence ! hang not on my garments. 

Mir. Sir, have pity ; 

470 I'll be his surety. 

P7^os. Silence ! one word more 

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What ! 
An advocate for an impostor ! hush ! 
Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, 
Having seen but him and Caliban : foolish wench ! 
To the most of men this is a Caliban 
And the}' to him are angels. 

Mir. My affections 

Are then most humble ; I have no ambition 
To see a goodlier man. 

Pros. Come on ; obey : 

Thy nerves are in their infancy again 
480 And have no vigor in them. 

Fer. So they are ; 

My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. 
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel. 
The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats, 
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, 



Act n, Sc. I] THE TEMPEST 233 

Might 1 but througli my prison once a day 
Behold this maid : all corners else o' the earth 
Let liberty make use of ; space enough 
Have I in such a prison. 

Pros. \_Aside~\ It works. [To Fer.] Come on. 
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel ! [To Fer.] Follow 
me. 
490 [^To Ari.~\ Hark what thou else shalt do me. 

Mir. Be of comfort ; 

My father's of a better nature, sir, 
Than he appears by speech : this is unwonted 
Which now came from him. 

Pros. Thou shalt be as free 

As mountain winds : but then exactly do 
All points of my command. 

Ari. To the syllable. 

Pros. Come, follow. Speak not for him. 

\_Uxeunt. 

ACT n 

Scene I. Another part of the island^ 

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, 
Adrian, Francisco, and others 
G-on. Beseech you, sir, be merry ; you have cause. 
So have we all, of joy ; for our escape 

1 This scene serves to give us an idea of the different characters 
of those cast upon the island. Alonso is lost in grief at the loss of 
Ferdinand, but the others have enough to say. The wit, where 
there is any, is not very fine : it serves, however, to show the lieart- 
lessness of Antonio (whose character has not improved with years) 
and of Sebastian, who seems about as bad as he. 



234 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe 

Is common ; every day some sailor's wife, 

The masters of some merchant and the merchant 

Have just our theme of woe ; but for the miracle, 

I mean our preservation, few in millions 

Can speak like us : then wisely, good sir, weigh 

Our sorrow with our comfort. 

Alon. Prithee, peace. 

10 Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. 

Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so. 

jSeb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit ; 
by and by it will strike. 

G-on. Sir, — 

Seb. One; tell. 

G-071. When every grief is entertained that's 
offered, 
Comes to the entertainer — 

Seb. A dollar. 

G-on. Dolor comes to him, indeed ; you have 
20 spoken truer than you purposed. 

Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant 
you should. 

Gon. Therefore, my lord, — 

Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue ! 

Alon. I prithee, spare. 

Gon. Well, I have done : but yet, — 

Seb. He will be talking. 

Ant. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, 
first begins to crow ? 
30 Seb. The old cock. 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 235 

Ant. The cockerel. 

Seb. Done. The wager ? 

A7it. A laughter. 

Seh. A match ! 

Adr. Though this island seem to be desert, — 

Seh. Ha, ha, ha ! So, you're paid. 

Adr. Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible, — 

Seh. Yet,— 

Adr. Yet,— 
40 Ant. He could not miss't. 

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender and 
delicate temperance. 

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. 

Seh. Aye, and a subtle ; as he most learnedly 
delivered. 

Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. 

Seh. As if it had lungs and rotten ones. 

Ant. Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen. 

Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life. 
50" Ant. True ; save means to live. 

Seh. Of that there's non^, or little. 

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how 
green ! 

Ant. The ground indeed is tawny. 

Seh. With an eye of green in't. 

Ant. He misses not much. 

Seh. No ; he doth but mistake the truth totally. 

Gon. But the rarity of it is, — which is indeed 
almost beyond credit, — 
60 Seh. As many vouched rarities are. 



236 HAWrnORNE classics [Act II 

Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, 
drenched m the sea, hold notwithstanding their 
freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than 
stained with salt water. 

A7it. If but one of his pockets could speak, 
would it not say he lies ? 

Seb. Aye, or very falsely pocket up his report. 

Gon. Methinks our garments are now as fresh as 
when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage 
70 of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the King of 
Tunis. 

Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper 
well in our return. 

Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such 
a paragon to their queen. 

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. 

Ant. Widow ! a pox o' that ! How came that 
widow in ? widow Dido ! 

aS'^^. What if he had said " Avidower JEneas " too ? 
80 Good Lord, how you take it ! 

Adr. " Widow Dido " said you ? you make me 
study of that ; she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. 

Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. 

Adr. Carthage ? 

Gon. I assure you, Carthage. 

Seb. His word is more than the miraculous 
harp ; ^ he hath raised the wall and houses too. 

1 The harp was perhaps that of Amphion, the music of which 
raised the walls of Thebes. Carthage was utterly destroyed by 
the Romans: Sebastian speaks as though Gonzalo had called it 
back into being. 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 237 

Ant. What impossible matter will lie make 
easy next ? 
90 Seh. I think he will carry this island home in 
his pocket, and give it his son for an apple. 

Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, 
bring forth more islands. 

Alon. Aye. 

Ant. Why, in good time. 

G-on. Sir, we were talking that our garments 
seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at 
the marriage of your daughter, who is now 
queen. 
[00 Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there. 

aS'^^. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. 

Ant. O, widow Dido ! aye, widow Dido. 

G-071. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the 
first day I wore it ? I mean, in a sort. 

Ant. That sort was well fished for. 

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's 
marriage ? 

Alon. You cram these words into mine ears 
against 
The stomach of my sense. Would I had never 
no Married my daughter there ! for, coming thence. 
My son is lost, and, in my rate, she too, 
Who is so far from Italy removed 
I ne'er asfain shall see her. O thou mine heir 
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish 
Hath made his meal on thee ? 

Fran. Sir, he may live: 



238 HAWTIIORXE CLASSICS [Act II 

I saw liiiii beat the surges under him, 
And ride upon their backs ; he trod the water, 
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted 
The surge most swohi that met him; his bold 
head 
120 'Bove the contentious Avaves he kept, and oared 
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke 
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bowed. 
As stooping to relieve him : I not doubt 
He came alive to land. 

Alon. No, no, he's gone. 

Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great 
loss. 
That would not bless our Europe with your 

daughter. 
But rather lose her to an African; 
Where she at least is banished from your eye. 
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't. 

Alon. Prithee, peace. 

130 Seh. You were kneeled to and importuned 
otherwise 
By all of us, and the fair soul herself 
Weighed between loathness and obedience, at 
Which end o' the beam should bow. We have 

lost your son, 
I fear, forever: Milan and Naples have 
Moe^ widow^s in them of this business' making 

1 This is the form of which more is the comparative. In Shake- 
speare's time it was almost obsolete and is not found often ; once 
in v., i., 234. 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 239 

Than we bring men to comfort them : 
The fault's your own. 

Alon. So is the dearest o' the loss. 

G-071. My lord Sebastian, 
The truth yoii speak doth lack some gentleness 
140 And time to speak it in: you rub the sore, 
When you should bring the plaster. 

Seh. Very well. 

Ant. And most chirurgeonly. 

G-071. It is foal weather in us all, good sir. 
When you are cloudy. 

Seh. Foul weather ? 

Ant. Very foul. 

G-on. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord, — 

Ant. He 'Id sow't with nettle-seed. 

Seh. Or docks, or mallows. 

Gon. And were the king on't, what would I 
do? 

Seh. 'Scape being drunk for want of wine. 

G-071. I' the commonwealth I would by con- 
traries 
150 Execute all things; ^ for no kind of traffic 
Would I admit; no name of magistrate: 
Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, 

1 This speech of Gonzalo's, meant merely to divert tlie king from 
his grief, is an ilkistration of the turn that men's minds took in 
Shakespeare's day toward the imagining of ideal forms of society, 
like the " Utopia" of Sir Thomas More, some little while hefore. 
This particular imagination is thought to have heen suggested by a 
passage in Montaigne's "Essays," which Shakespeare may have 
had in Florio's translation. 



240 JrAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act II 

And use of service, none : contract, succession, 

Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; 

No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; 

No occupation: all men idle, all; 

And women too, but innocent and pure; 

No sovereignty; — 

Seh. Yet he Avould be king on't 

Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth for- 
i6ogets the beginning. 1 

Gron. All things in common nature should 
produce 
Without sweat or endeavor: treason, felony. 
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine. 
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, 
Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance. 
To feed my innocent people. 

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects? 

A)Lt. None, man; all idle. 

Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, 
170 To excel the golden age. 

Seh. Save his majesty! 

Aiit. Long live Gonzalo ! 

Gon. And, — do you mark me, sir ? 

Alon. Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing 
to me. 

Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did 

1 Gonziilo in his interest at the end, has forj;otten his beginning. 
Shakespeare does not seem to have had much faith in such schem- 
ing: Avlien he presents the populace in his plaj's, it is commonly as 
light-headed and unreasonable as in Julius Csesar. 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 241 

it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who 
are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they 
always use to laugh at nothing. 

Ant. 'Twas you we laughed at. 

G-on. Who in this kind of merry fooling am 
nothing to you : so you may continue and laugh 
iSoat nothing stilL 

Ant. What a blow was there given ! 

Seh. An it had not fallen flat-long. 

G-on. You are gentlemen of brave mettle ; you 
would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she 
would continue in it five weeks without changing. 

Eiiter Ariel, invisible., playing solemn music 

Seh. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. 
Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. 
Gon. No, I warrant you ; I will not adventure 
my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me 
190 asleep, for I^am very heavy? 
Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. 

[All sleep except Alon., Seb., and Ant. 
Alon. What, all so soon asleep ! I wish mine 
eyes 
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts : I 

find 
They are inclined to do so. 

Seh. Please you, sir, 

Do not omit the heavy offer of it: 
It seldom visits sorrow ; when it doth. 
It is a comforter. 



242 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

Ant. We two, my lord, 

Will guard your person while you take your 

rest 
And watch your safety. 

Alon. Thank you. Wondrous heavy. 

[Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel. 

200 Seh. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! 

Ant. It is the quality o' the climate. 

Seh. ^ Why 

Doth it not then our ej'elids sink ? I find not 
Myself disposed to sleep. 

Ant. Nor I ; my spirits are nimble. 

They fell together all, as by consent ; 
They dropped as by a thunder-stroke. What 

might. 
Worthy Sebastian ? O, what might ? — No more : — 
And yet methinks I see it in thy face. 
What thou shouldst be : the occasion speaks thee, 

and 
My strong imagination sees a crown 
210 Dropping upon thy head. 

Seh. What, art thou waking ? 

Ant. Do you not hear me speak ? 

Seh. I do ; and surely 

It is a sleepy language and thou speak'st 
Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? 
This is a strange repose, to be asleep 
With eyes wide open ; standing, speaking, moving, 
And yet so fast asleep. 

Ant. Noble Sebastian, 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 243 

Thou let'st thy fortune sleep — die, rather; wink'st 
Whiles thou art waking. 

Seh. Thou clost snore distinctly; 

There's meaning in thy snores. 
220 Ant. I am more serious than my custom : you 
Must be so too, if heed me; which to do 
Trebles thee o'er. 

Seh. Well, I am standing water. 

Ant. I'll teach you how to flow. 

Seh. Do so: to ebb 

Hereditary sloth instructs me. 

Ant. O, 

If you but knew how you the purpose cherish 
Whiles thus you mock it ! how, in stripping it, 
You more invest it ! Ebbing men, indeed. 
Most often do so near the bottom run 
By tlieir own fear or sloth. 

Seh. Prithee, say on : 

230 The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim 
A matter from thee, and a birth indeed 
Which throes thee much to yield. 

Ant. Thus, sir: 

Although this lord of weak remembrance, this, 
Who shall be of as little memory 
When he is earthed, hath here almost persuaded, — 
For he's a spirit of persuasion, only 
Professes to persuade, — the king liis son's alive, 
'Tis as impossible that he's undrowned 
As he that sleeps here swims. 

Seh. I have no hope 



244 IIAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

240 That he's undrowiied. 

Aiit. O, out of that " no hope " 

What great hope have you ! 110 hope that way is 
Another way so high a hope that even 
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, 
But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with 

me 
That Ferdinand is drowned ? 

Seh. He's gone. 

Ant. Then, tell me, 

Who's the next heir of Naples ? 

Seb. Claribel. 

Ant. She that is queen of Tunis ; she that 
dwells 
Ten leagues beyond man's life ; she that from 

Naples 
Can have no note, unless the sun were post — 
250 The man i' the moon's too slow — till new-born chins 
Be rough and razorable ; she that — from whom 
We all were sea-swallowed, though some cast again, 
And by that destiny to perform an act 
Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come 
In yours and my discharge. 

Seh. What stuff is this ! how say you ? 

'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis ; 
So is she heir of Naples ; 'twixt which regions 
There is some space. 

Ant. A space whose every cubit 

Seems to cry out, ' How shall that Claribel 
260 Measure us back to Naples ? Keep in Tunis, 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 245 

And let Sebastian wake.' Say, this were death 
That now hath seized them ; why, they were no 

worse 
Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples 
As well as he that sleeps ; lords that can prate 
As amply and unnecessarily 
As this Gonzalo ; I myself could make 
A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore 
The mind that I do ! what a sleep were this 
For your advancement ! Do you understand me ? 
270 Seh. Methinks I do. 

Ant. And how does your content 

Tender your own good fortune ? 

Seh. I remember 

You did supplant your brother Prospero. 

Ant. True : 

And look how well my garments sit upon me ; 
Much feater than before : my brother's servants 
Were then my fellows ; now they are my men. 

Seh. But, for your conscience ? 

Ant. Aye, sir ; where lies that ? if 'twere a kibe, 
'Twould put me to my slipper : but I feel not 
This deity in my bosom : twenty consciences, 
280 That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they 
And melt ere they molest ! Here lies your brother. 
No better than the earth he lies upon. 
If he were that which now he's like, that's dead ; 
Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches 

of it. 
Can lay to bed forever ; whiles you, doing thus, 



246 nAWTIIOBNE CLASSICS [Act II 

To the perpetual wink for aye might put 
This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who 
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, 
They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk ; 
290 They'll tell the clock to any business that 
We say befits the hour. 

Seh. Thy case, dear friend, 

Shall be my precedent ; as thou got'st Milan, 
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword : one stroke 
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest: 
And I the king shall love thee. 

Ant. Draw together ; 

And when I rear my liand, do you the like. 
To fall it on Gonzalo. 

jSeh. O, but one word. 

\_They talk apart. 

Re-enter Ariel, invisible 

Ari. My master through his art foresees the 
danger 
That you, his friend, are in ; and sends me forth — 
300 For else his project dies — to keep them living. 

[Sings in Gonzalo's ear. 
While you here do snoring lie. 
Open-eyed conspiracy 

His time doth take. 
If of life you keep a care. 
Shake off slumber, and bcAvare : 
Awake, awake I 
Ant. Then let us both be sudden. 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 247 

Gon. Now, good angels 

Preserve the king. \_They tvake. 

Alon. Why, how now ? ho, awake ? Why are 
you drawn ? 
310 Wlierefore this ghastly looking ! 

Go)i. What's the matter ? 

aS^^^. Whiles we stood here securing your repose. 
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing 
Like bulls, or rather lions : did't not wake you ? 
It struck mine ear most terribly. 

Alon. I heard nothing. 

A7it. O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear. 
To make an earthquake ! sure, it was the roar 
Of a whole herd of lions. 

Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo ? 

Gron. Upon mine honor, sir, I heard a humming. 
And that a strange one too, wdiich did awake me : 
320 I shaked you, sir, and cried : as mine eyes opened, 
I saw their weapons drawn : there was a noise, 
That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard. 
Or that we quit this place : let's draw our weapons. 

Alon. Lead off this ground ; and let's make 
further search. 
For my poor son. 

Gron. Heavens keep him from these beasts ! 

For he is, sure, i' the island. 

Alon. Lead away. 

Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have 
done : 
So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt. 



248 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

Scene II. Another part of the island 

Eyiter Caliban tvith a burden of ivood. A noise 
of thunder heard 

Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up 
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make 

him 
By inch-meal a disease ! His spirits hear me 
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor 

pinch, 
Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' the mire. 
Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark 
Out of my way, unless he bid 'em ; but 
For every trifle are they set upon me ; 
Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me 
lo And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which 
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount 
Their pricks at my footfall ; sometime am I 
All wound with adders who with cloven tongues 
Do hiss me into madness. 

Enter Trinculo 
Lo, now, lo ! 
Here comes a spirit ^ of his, and to torment me 
For bringing wood in slowly. Ill fall flat ; 
Perchance he will not mind me. 

Trin. Here's neither bush nor slirub, to bear off 
20 any weather at all, and another storm brewing ; I 

1 Like Miranda, Caliban does not know a man when he sees one : 
he takes these two sailors for spirits. 



Scene II ] THE TEMPEST 249 

hear it sing i' the wind : yond same black cloud, 
yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard that 
would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it 
did before, I know not where to hide my head : 
yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. 
What have we her ? a man or a fish ? dead or 
alive ? A fish : he smells like a fish ; a very an- 
cient and fish-like smell ; a kind of not of the 
newest Poor-John. A strange fish ! Were I in 

30 England now, as once I was, and had but this fish 
painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a 
piece of silver : there would this monster make a 
man ; any strange beast there makes a man : when 
they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, 
they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged 
like a man ! and his fins like arms ! Warm, o' my 
troth ! I do now^ let loose my opinion ; hold it 
no longer ; this is no fish, but an islander, that 
liath lately suffered by a thunder-bolt. [ Thunder. ] 

40 Alas, the storm is come again ! my best way is 
to creep under his gaberdine ; there is no other 
shelter hereabout : misery acquaints a man with 
strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the 
dregs of the storm be past. 

Enter Stephano, singing : a bottle in his hand 

Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea. 
Here shall I die ashore — 

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's 
funeral : well, here's ni}^ comfort. \_Drinks. 



250 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

[Sings.] 

The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I, 
50 The gunner and his mate 

Loved Mall, ^leg and Marian and Margery, 

But none of us cared for Kate ; 

For she had a tongue with a tang. 

Would cry to a sailor. Go hang ! 
She loved not tlie savor of tar nor of pitch. 

Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang ! 

This is a scurvy tune too : but here's my comfort. 

[I) rinks. 

Col. Do not torment me : Oh ! ^ 

Ste. What's the matter ? Have we devils here? 
60 Do you put tricks upon's with savages and men of 
Ind, ha ? I have not 'scaped drowning to be af eared 
now of your four legs ; for it hath been said, As 
proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot 
make him give ground ; and it shall be said so 
again while Stephano breathes at nostrils. 

Col. The spirit torments me ; Oh ! 

Ste. This is some monster of the isle with four 
legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where 
the devil should he learn our language ? I will 
70 give him some relief, if it be but for that. If I 
can recover him and keep him tame and get to 
Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor 
that ever trod on neat's-leather. 

1 Caliban and Trinculo have their heads muffled so that they 
see nothing. 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 251 

Cat. Do not torment me, prithee ; I'll bring my 
wood home faster. 

Ste. He's in his fit now and does not talk after 
the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle : if he 
have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to 
remove his fit. If I can recover him and keep 

So him tame, I will not take too much for him ; he 
shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly. 
Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou 
wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling : now Pros- 
per works upon thee. 

Ste. Come on your ways ; open your mouth ; 
here is that whicli will give language to you, cat : 
open your mouth ; this will shake your shaking, I 
can tell you, and that soundly : you cannot tell 
who's your friend: open your chaps again. 

90 . Trin. I should know that voice : it should be — 
but he is drowned ; and these are devils : O defend 
me ! 

Ste. Four legs and two voices : a most delicate 
monster! His forward voice now is to speak well 
of his friend ; his backward voice is to utter foul 
speeches and to detract. If all the wine in my 
bottle will recover him, I will help his ague. 
Come. Amen ! I will pour some in thy other 
mouth. 

00 Trin. Stephano ! 

Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, 
mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I will 
leave him ; I have no long spoon. 



252 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 

Trin. Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch 
me and speak to me ; for I am Trinculo — be not 
afeard — thy good friend Trinculo. 

Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth : I'll 
pull thee by the lesser legs : if any be Trinculo's 
legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo 
lo indeed! How camest thou ? 

Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunder- 
stroke. But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I 
hope now thou art not drowned. Is the storm over- 
blown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaber- 
dine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, 
Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scaped ! 

Ste. Prithee, do not turn me about ; my stomach 
is not constant. 

Cal. \_Aside^ These be fine things, an if they 
20 be not sprites. 

That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor. 
I will kneel to him. 

Ste. How didst thou 'scape ? How camest thou 
hither? swear by this bottle how thou camest 
hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack which the 
sailors heaved o'erboard, by this bottle! which I 
made of the bark of a tree with mine own hands 
since I was cast ashore. 

Cal. I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true 
[30 subject ; for the liquor is not earthly. 

Ste. Here ; swear then how thou escapedst. 

Trin. Swum ashore, man, like duck : I can 
swim like a duck, I'll be sworn. 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 253 

Ste, Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst 
swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. 

Trin. O Stephano, hast any more of this? 

Ste. The whole butt, man : my cellar is in a rock 
by the sea-side where my wine is hid. How now, 
moon-calf ! how does thine ague ? 
140 Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven? 

Ste. Out o' the moon, I do assure thee : I was 
the man i' the moon when time was. 

Cal. I have seen thee in her and I do adore thee : 
My mistress show'd me thee and thy dog and thy 
bush. 

Ste. Come, swear to that ; kiss the book : I will 
furnish it anon with new contents : swear. 

Trin. By this good light, this is a very shallow 
monster! I afeard of him! A very weak monster! 
The man i' the moon! A most poor credulous 
1 50 monster! Well drawn, monster, in good sooth! 

Cal. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' 
island : 
And I will kiss thy foot : 1 prithee, be my god. 

Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and 
drunken monster ! when 's god's asleep he'll rob 
his bottle. 

Qal. I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy 
subject. 

Ste. Come on then ; down, and swear. 

Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this 
160 puppy-headed monster. A most scurvy monster ! 
I could find in my heart to beat him, — 



254 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II, Sc. II 

Ste. Come, kiss. 

Trin. But that the poor monster's in drink : an 
abominable monster ! 

Cal. I'll show thee the best springs ; I'll pluck 
thee berries ; 
I'll fish for thee and get thee wood enough. 
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve ! 
I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee. 
Thou wondrous man. 
170 Trin. A most ridiculous monster, to make a 
wonder of a poor drunkard ! 

Cell. I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs 
grow ; 
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig- 
nuts ; 
Show thee a jay's nest and instruct tliee how 
To snare the nimble marmoset ; I'll bring thee 
To clustering filberts and sometimes I'll get thee 
Young scamels^ from the rock. Wilt thou go 
with me? 
Ste. I prithee now, lead the way without any 
more talking. Trinculo, the king and all our 
180 company else being drowned, we will inherit here : 
bear my bottle : fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by 
and by again. 

Cal. \_Sings drunkenly^ 

Farewell, master ; farewell, farewell I 
Trin. A howling monster ; a drunken monster ! 

1 No one knows what " scamels " are. It is delightful to have 
some mystery iu Shakespeare left. 



Act III, Sc. I] THE TEMPEST 255 

Cat. No more dams I'll make for fish : 
Nor fetch in firing 
At requiring ; 
Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish : 
'Ban, 'Ban, Cacaliban 
190 Has a new master : get a new man. 

Freedom, hey-day ! hey-day, freedom ! freedom, 
hey-day, freedom ! 
Ste. O brave monster ! Lead the way. 

\^Exeunt. 

ACT III 

Scene I. Before Prospero's cell 

Enter Ferdinand hearing a log 

Fer. There be some sports are painful, and their 

labor 
Delight in them sets off : some kinds of baseness 
Are nobly undergone, and most poor matters 
Point to rich ends. This my mean task 
Would be as heavy to me as odious, but 
The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead 
And makes my labors pleasures : O, she is 
Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed, 
And he's composed of harshness. I must remove 
10 Some thousands of these logs and pile them uj), 
Upon a sore injunction : my sweet mistress 
Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such 

baseness 
Had never like executor. I forget : 



256 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my 

labors, 
Most busy lest, when I do it.^ 

Enter Miranda ; and Prospero at a distance^ 
unseen 

Mir. Alas, now, pray you, 

Work not so hard : I would the lightning had 
Burnt up those logs that you are enjoined to pile ! 
Pray, set it down and rest you : when this burns 
'TavHI weep for having Avearied you. My father 
20 Is hard at study ; pray now, rest yourself ; 
He's safe for these three hours. 

Fer. O most dear mistress, 

The sun will set before I shall discharge 
What I must strive to do. 

Mir. If you'll sit down 

I'll bear your logs the while : pray, give me that ; 
I'll carry it to the pile. 

Fer. No, precious creature ; 

I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, 
Than you should such dishonor undergo. 
While I sit lazy by. 

Mir. It would become me 

As well as it does you : and I should do it 
30 With much more ease ; for my good will is to it. 
And yours i't is against. 

1 This is one of the most difficult passages iu Shakespeare. Per- 
haps we have not the true words, perhaps it was hastily and incor- 
rectly written. 



Scene II 



THE TEMPEST 257 



Pros. Poor worm, thou art infected ! 

This visitation shows it. 

]\fir. You look wearily. 

Fer. No, noble mistress ; 'tis fresh morning 
with me 
When you are by at night. I do beseech you — 
Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers — 
What is your name ? 

]\fir. Miranda. — O my father, 

I have broken your best to say so ! 

Per. Admired Miranda! 

Indeed the top of admiration ! worth 
What's dearest to the world ! Full many a lady 
40 1 have eyed with best regard, and many a time 
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage 
Brought my too diligent ear : for several virtues 
Have I liked several women ; never any 
With so full soul, but some defect in her 
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed 
And put it to the foil ; but you, O you, 
So perfect and so peerless, are created 
Of every creature's best ! 

Ji^ir. I do not know 

One of my sex ; no woman's face remember, 
50 Save, from my glass, mine own ; nor have I seen 
More that I may call men than you, good friend. 
And my dear father : how features are abroad, 
I am skill-less of ; but, by my modesty. 
The jewel in my dower, I would not wish 
Any companion in the world but you. 



258 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Nor can imagination form a shape, 
Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle 
Something too wildly and my father's precepts 
I therein do forget. 

Fer. I am in my condition 

60 A prince, Miranda ; I do think a king ; 
I would, not so ! — and would no more endure 
This wooden slavery than to suffer 
The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul 

speak : 
The very instant that I saw you, did 
My heart fly to your service ; there resides. 
To make me slave to it ; and for your sake 
Am I this patient log-man. 

Mir. Do you love me ? 

Fer. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this 
sound 
And crow^n what I profess with kind event 
70 If I speak true I if hollowly, invert 
What best is boded me to mischief ! I 
Beyond all limit of what else i' the world 
Do love, prize, honor you. 

Mir. I am a fool 

To weep at what I am glad of. 

Pros. Fair encounter 

Of two most rare affections ! Heavens rain grace 
On that which breeds between 'em ! 

Fer. Wherefore Aveep you ? 

Mir. At mine unworthiness that dare not offer 
What I desire to give, and much less take 



Scene IIJ THE TEMPEST 259 

What shall die to want. But this is trifling ; 
80 And all the more it seeks to hide itself, 
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cun- 
ning ! 
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! 
I am your wife, if you will marry me ; 
If not, 111 die your maid : to be your fellow 
You may deny me ; but I'll be your servant, 
Whether you will or no. 

Fer. My mistress, dearest ; 

And I thus humble ever. 

Mir. My husband, then ? 

Fer. Aye, with a heart as willing 
As bondage e'er of freedom : here's my hand. 
90 Mir. And mine, with my heart in't : and now 
farewell 
Till half an hour hence. 

Fer. A thousand thousand ! 

[^Exeunt Fer. and Mir. severally. 
Pros. So glad of this as they I cannot be. 
Who are surprised withal ; but my rejoicing 
At nothing can be more. I'll to my book, 
For yet ere supper-time must I perform 
Much business appertaining. [Fxit. 

Scene II. Another part of the island 

Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo 
Ste. Tell not me ; when the butt is out, we will 
drink water ; not a drop before : therefore bear 



260 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

up, and board 'em. Servant-monster, drink to 
me. 

Trin. Servant-monster ! the folly of this island ! 
They say there's but five upon this isle : we are 
three of them ; if th' other two be brained like us, 
the state totters. 

Ste. Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee : 
10 thy eyes are almost set in thy head. 

Trin. Where should they be set else ? he were 
a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail. 

Ste. My man-monster hath drowned his tongue 
in sack : for my part, the sea cannot drown me ; 
I swam, ere I could recover the shore, five and 
thirty leagues off and on. By this light, thou 
shalt be my lieutenant, monster, or my standard. 

Trin. Your lieutenant, if you list ; he's no 
standard. 
20 Ste. We'll not run. Monsieur Monster. 

Trin. Nor go neither ; but you'll lie like dogs 
and yet say nothing neither. 

Ste. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou 
beest a good moon-calf. 

Cal. How does thy honor ? Let me lick thy 
shoe. I'll not serve him ; he is not valiant. 

Tin. Thou liest, most ignorant monster : I am 
in case to justle a constable. Why, thou deboshed 
fish, thou, was there ever man a coward that hath 
30 drunk so much sack as I to-day ? Wilt thou tell 
a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a 
monster ? 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 261 

Cal. Lo, how he mocks me ! wilt thou let him, 
my lord ? 

Tri7i. " Lord " quoth he ! That a monster should 
be such a natural ! 

Cal. Lo, lo, again ! bite him to death, I prithee. 

Ste. Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head : 
if you prove a mutineer, — the next tree ! The 
40 poor monster's my subject and he shall not suffer 
indignity. 

Cal. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be 
pleased to hearken once again to the suit I made 
to thee ? 

Ste. Marry, will I : kneel and repeat it ; I will 
stand, and so shall Trinculo. 

Enter Ariel, invisible 

Cal. As I told thee before, I am subject to a 
tyrant, a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated 
me of the island. 
50 Ari. Thou liest. 

Cal. Thou liest, thou je&ting monkey, thou : 
I would my valiant master would destroy thee ! 
I do not lie. 

Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in 's 
tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your 
teeth. 

Trin. Why, I said nothing. 

Ste. Mum, then, and no more. Proceed. 

Cal. I say, by sorcery he got this isle ; 
60 From me he got it. If thy greatness will 



262 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Revenge it on him, — for I know thou darest, 
But this thing dare not, — 

Ste. That's most certain. 

Cal. Thou shalt be lord of it and I'll serve thee.^ 

Ste. How now shall this be compassed ? Canst 
thou bring me to the party ? 

Cal. Yea, yea, my lord : Til yield him thee 
asleep, 
Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head. 

Ari. Thou liest ; thou canst not. 
70 Cal. What a pied ninny's this ! Thou scurvy 
patch ! 
I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows 
And take his bottle from him : when that's gone 
He shall drink naught but brine ; for I'll not show 

him 
Where the quick freshes are. 

Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger : in- 
terrupt the monster one word f urtlier, and, by this 
hand, I'll turn my mercy out o' doors and make a 
stock -fish of thee. 

Trill. Why, what did I ? I did nothing. I'll 
80 go farther off. 

Ste. Didst thou not say he lied ? 

Ari. Thou liest. 

aS'^^. Do I so ? take thou that. [Beats Trin.] 
As you like this, give me the lie another time. 

1 The plot of these absurd creatures against Prospero is a sort 
of contrast to the more dangerous plot of Antonio and Sebastiau 
against Alouso. 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 263 

Trin. 1 did not give the lie. Out o' your wits 
and hearing too ? A pox o' your bottle ! this can 
sack and drinking do. A murrain on your mon- 
ster, and the devil take your fingers ! 

CaL Ha, ha, ha I 
90 Ste. Now, forward with your tale. Prithee, 
stand farther off. 

Col. Beat him enough : after a little time 
I'll beat him too. 

Ste. Stand farther. Come, proceed. 

Cal. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with 
him, 
I' th' afternoon to sleep : there thou mayst brain 

him. 
Having first seized his books, or with a log 
Batter his skull, or paunch him Avith a stake, 
Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember 
First to possess his books ; for without them 
TOO He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not 

One spirit to command : they all do hate him 
As rootedly as I. Burn but his books. 
He has brave utensils, — for so he calls them, — - 
Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal. 
And that most deeply to consider is 
The beauty of his daughter ; he himself 
Calls her a nonpareil : I never saw a woman, 
But only Sycorax my dam and she ; 
But she as far surpasseth Sycorax 
no As great'st does least. 

Ste, Is it so brave a lass ? 



264 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Arx III 

Cal. Aye, lord. 

Ste. Monster, I will kill this man : his daughter 
and I will be king and queen, — save our graces ! 
— and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys. 
Dost thou like the plot, Trinculo ? 

Trin. Excellent. 

Ste. Give me thy hand : I am sorry I beat 
thee ; but, while thou livest, keep a good tongue 
in thy head. 
120 Cal. Within this half hour will he be asleep : 
Wilt thou destroy him then? 

Ste. Aye, on mine honor. 

Ari. This will I tell my master. 

Cal. Thou makest me merry ; I am full of 
pleasure : 
Let us be jocund : wall you troll the catch 
You taught me while-ere ? 

Ste. At thy request, monster, I will do reason, 
any reason. 
Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. \_Sings. 

Flout 'em and scout 'em 
And scout 'em and flout 'em ; 
130 Thought is free. 

Cal. That's not the tune. 

[Ariel j^lctys the tune on a tabor and pipe. 
Ste. What is this same ? 

Trin. This is the tune of our catch, played by 
the picture of Nobody. 

Ste. If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy 



Scene II] THE TEMPEST 265 

likeness: if thou beest a devil, take't as thou 
list. 

Trin. O, forgive me my sins I 

Ste. He that dies pays all debts : 1 defy thee. 
140 Mercy upon us ! 

CaL Art thou afeard? 

Ste. No, monster, not I. 

Col. Be not afeard : the isle is full of noises, 
Sounds and sw^eet airs, that give delight and hurt 

not. 
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments 
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices 
That, if I then had waked after long sleep, 
Will make me sleep- again: and then, in dreaming, 
The clouds methought would open and show 
riches 
[50 Ready to drop upon me, that, when I waked, 
I cried to dream again. 

Ste. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, 
where I shall have my music for nothing. 

Col. When Prospero is destroyed. 

Ste. That shall be by and by^: I remember the 
story. 

Trin. The sound is going away ; let's follow it, 
and after do our work. 

Ste. Lead, monster ; we'll follow. I would I 
[60 could see this taborer ; he lays it on. 

Trm. Wilt come? ^ I'll follow, Stephano. [Exeunt. 

1 At once : the procrastination of mankind has changed the 
meaning, as with. tpresently , IV., i., 42. 



266 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 



Scene III. Another part of the island 

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, 
Adrian, Francisco, and others 

Gon. By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir ; 
My old bones ache : here's a maze trod indeed 
Through forth -rights and meanders ! By your 

patience, 
I needs must rest me. 

Alan. Old lord, I cannot blame thee, 

Who am myself attached with weariness, 
To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest. 
Even here I will put off my hope and keep it 
No longer for my flatterer : he is drowned 
Whom thus Ave stray to find, and the sea mocks 
lo Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him 
go. 
■ Ant. \_Aside to See.] I am right glad that he's 
so out of hope. 
Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose 
That you resolved to effect. 

Seb. [Aside to Ant.] The next advantage 
Will we take throughly. 

Ant. [Aside to Seb.] Let it be to-night; 
For, now they are oppressed with travel, they 
Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance 
As when they are fresh. 

Seb. [Aside to A:sT.] I say, to-night : no more. 
[Solemn and strange music. 



Scene III] THE TEMPEST 267 

Alon. What harmony is this ? My good friends, 
hark ! 

G-071. Marvelous sweet music ! 

Enter Peospero ahove^ invisible. Enter several 
strange Sliapes hringiyig i7i a banquet; they 
dance about it ivith gentle actions of salutation; 
and, inviting the King, etc., to eat, they depart.^ 
20 Alon. Give us kind keepers, heavens! What 
were these? 
Seb. A living drollery. Now I will believe 
That there are unicorns, that in Arabia 
There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix 
At this hour reigning there. ^ 

Ant. I'll believe both ; 

And what does else want credit, come to me. 
And I'll be sworn 'tis true : travelers ne'er did 

lie. 
Though fools at home condemn 'em. 

Gon. If in Naples 

I should report this now, v.^ould they believe me? 
If I should say, I saw such islanders — 
30 For, certes, these are people of the island — 
Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, 

note. 
Their manners are more gentle-kind than of 
Our human generation you shall find 
Many, nay, almost any. 

1 This entrance was such an opportmiity for quaint costume and 
make-up as often occurred in Elizabethan life. 

2 No traveler's tales can be too absurd. 



268 IIAWTIIOBNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Pros. [Aside^ Honest lord, 

Thou hast said well ; for some of you there 

present 
Are Avorse than devils. 

Alon. I cannot too much muse 

Such shapes, such gesture and such sound, ex- 
pressing, 
Although they want the use of tongue, a kind 
Of excellent dumb discourse. 

Pros. [Aside^ Praise in departing. 

40 Fran. They vanished strangely. 

Seb, No matter, since 

They have left their viands behind ; for we have 

stomachs. 
Will't please you taste of what is here ? 

Alon. Not I. 

G-071. Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we 
were boys, 
Who would believe that there were mountaineers 
Dew-lapped like bulls, whose throats had hanging 

at 'em 
Wallets of flesh ? or that there were such men 
Whose heads stood in their breasts? Avhich now 

we find 
Each putter- out of five for one^ will bring us 
Good warrant of. 

Alon. I Avill stand to and feed, 

1 every traveler : it was the custom of some before they went 
on their travels, to deposit a sum of mouey with some one who was 
to keep it if they died, and pay five times as much if they came 
back. 



Scene III] THE TEMPEST 269 

50 Although my last : no matter, since I feel 
The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke, 
Stand to and do as we. 

Thinder and lightning. Enter Ariel, like a harpy; 
claps his wings upon the table; and, with a 
quaint device, the banquet vanishes 

Ari. You are three men of sin, whom Destiny, 
That hath to instrument this lower world 
And what is in't, the never-surfeited sea. 
Hath caused to belch up you ; and on this island 
Where man doth not inhabit ; you 'mongst men 
Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad ; 
And even with such-like valor men hang and 
drown 
60 Their proper selves. 

[Alon., Seb., etc., draw their sivords. 
You fools ! I and my fellows 
Are ministers of Fate : the elements. 
Of whom your swords are tempered, may as well 
Wound the loud winds, or with bemocked-at 

stabs 
Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish 
One dowle that's in my plume : my fellow-min- 
isters 
Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt. 
Your swords are now too massy for your strengths 
And will not be uplifted. But remember — 
For that's my business to you — that you three 
70 From Milan did supplant good Prospero ; 



270 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 

Exposed unto the sea, whicli hath requit it, 
Him and his innocent chikl : for which foul deed 
The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have 
Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures, 
Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso, 
They have bereft ; and do pronounce by me 
Lingering perdition, worse than any death 
Can be at once, shall step by step attend 
You and your ways ; whose Avraths to guard you 
from — 
80 Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls 
Upon your heads — is nothing but heart-sorrow 
And a clear life ensuing. 

ITe vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music, enter 
the Shapes again, and dance, ivith mocks and 
mows, and carrying out the table 

Pros. Bravely the figure of this harpy hast 

thou 
Performed, my Ariel ; a grace it had, devouring : 
Of my instruction has thou nothing bated 
In what thou hadst to say : so, with good life 
And observation strange, my meaner ministers 
Their several kinds have done. My high charms 

work 
And these mine enemies are all knit up 
90 In their distractions ; tliey now are in my power ; 
And in these fits I leave them, while I visit 
Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drowned. 
And his and mine loved darling. [^Exit above. 



Scene III] THE TEMPEST 271 

G-on. V the name of something holy, sir, why 
stand you 
In this strange stare ? 

Alon. O, it is monstrous, monstrous ! 

Methought the billows spoke and told me of it ; 
The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder. 
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced 
The name of Prosper : it did bass my trespass. 
100 Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded, and 
I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded 
And with him there lie mudded. \^Exit. 

Seb. But one fiend at a time, 

I'll fight their legions o'er. 

Ant. I'll be thy second. 

\_Exeunt Seb. and Ant. 

Cron. All three of them are desperate : their 
great guilt. 
Like poison given to work a great time after, 
Now 'gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you 
That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly 
And hinder them from what this ecstasy 
May now provoke them to. 

Adr. Follow, I pray you. \_Uxeunt. 



272 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

ACT IV 

Scene. I. Before Prosperous cell 
Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda 

Pros. If I have too austerely punished you, 
Your compensation makes amends, for I 
Have given you here a third of mine own life. 
Or that for which I live ; who once again 
I tender to thy hand : all thy vexations 
Were but my trials of thy love, and thou 
Hast strangely stood the test : here, afore Heaven, 
I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand, 
Do not smile at me that I boast her off, 
10 For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise 
And make it halt behind her. 

Fer. I do believe it 

Against an oracle. 

Pros. Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition 
Worthily purchased, take my daughter : but 
If thou dost break her virgin-knot before 
All sanctimonious ceremonies may 
With full and holy rite be ministered. 
No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall 
To make this contract grow ; but barren hate, 
20 Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew 
The union of your bed with weeds so loathly 
That you shall hate it both : therefore take heed. 
As Hymen's lamps shall light you. 

Fer. As I hope 

For quiet days, fair issue and long life, 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 273 

With such love as 'tis now, the mirkiest den, 
The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion 
Our worser genius can, shall never melt 
Mine honor into lust, to take away 
The edge of that day's celebration 
30 When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are foun- 
dered. 
Or Night kept chained below. 

Pros. Fairly spoke. 

Sit then and talk with her ; she is thine own. 
What, Ariel ! my industrious servant, Ariel ! 

Enter Ariel 

Ari. What would my potent master ? here I am. 
Pros. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last 
service 
Did worthily perform ; and I must use you 
In such another trick. Go bring the rabble, 
O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place : 
Incite them to quick motion ; for I must 
40 Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple 
Some vanity of mine art : it is my promise, 
And they expect it from me. 

Ari. Presently ? 

Pros. Aye, with a twink. 

Ari. Before you can say " come " and " go," 

And breathe twice and cry " so, so," 
Each one, tripping on his toe. 
Will be here with mop and mow. 
Do you love me, master ? no ? 



274 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

Pros. Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Du not 
approach 
50 Till thou clost hear me call. 

Ari. Well, I conceive. [Uxit. 

Pros. Look thou be true ; do not give dalliance 
Too much the rein : the strongest oaths are straw 
To the fire i' the blood : be more abstemious. 
Or else, good night your vow ! 

Per. I warrant you, sir ; 

The white cold virgin snow upon my heart 
Abates the ardor of my liver. 

Pros. Well. 

Now come, my Ariel ! bring a corollary. 
Rather than want a spirit : appear, and pertly ! 
No tongue ! all eyes ! be silent. l_iSoft music. 

Enter Iris^ 

60 Iris. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas 
Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats and pease ; 
Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, 
And flat meads thatched with stover, them to keep; 
Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, 

1 We have a masque such as was common iu Elizabeth's day. A 
masque was a dramatic entertainment given generally in private, 
of a rich and gorgeous character, with elaborate scenery and cos- 
tume, songs and dances. It had words also, but its poetry was (as 
here) rather more conventional than that of the usual drama, more 
decorative in effect, to borrow a figure from painting. Masques 
were produced on all sorts of great occasions — Milton's "Masque 
of Comus" celebrated the arrival of the Earl of Bridgewater at 
Ludlow Town — but they were especially common at weddings, as 
here. 



Scene I] . THE TEMPEST 275 

Which spongy April at thy hest betrims, 

To make cold nymphs chaste crowns ; and thy 

broom-groves, 
Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, 
Being lass-lorn ; thy pole-clipt vineyard ; 
And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard, 
70 Where thou thyself dost air ; the queen o' the sky, 
Whose watery arch and messenger am I, 
Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace. 
Here on this grass-plot, in this very place. 
To come and sport : her peacocks fly amain : 
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. 

Enter Ceres 

Cer. Hail, many-colored messenger, that ne'er 
Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter ; 
Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers 
Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers, 

80 And wdth each end of thy blue bow dost crown 
My bosky acres and my unshrubbed down. 
Rich scarf to my proud earth ; why hath thy queen 
Summoned me hither, to this short-grassed green ? 

/m. A contract of true love to celebrate ; 
And some donation freely to estate 
On the blest lovers. 

Cer. Tell me, heavenly bow, 

If Venus or her son, as thou dost know. 
Do now attend the queen ? Since they did plot 
The means that dusky Dis my daughter got, 

90 Her and her blind boy's scandalejd company 



276 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

I have forsworn. 

Iris. Of her society 

Be not afraid : I met her deity 

Cntting the clonds towards Paphos and her son 

Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to 
have done 

Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, 

Whose vows are, that no bed- right shall be paid 

Till Hymen's torch be lighted : but in vain ; 

Mars' hot minion is returned again ; 

Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, 
100 Swears he will shoot no more, but play with spar- 
rows 

And be a boy right out. 

Cer. High'st queen of state. 

Great Juno, comes ; I know her by her gait. 

Unter Juno 
Juno. How does my bounteous sister ? Go with 
me 
To bless this twain, that they may pi'^osperous be 
And honored in their issue. \_Theij sing. 

Juno. Honor, riches, marriage-blessing. 
Long continuance, and increasing, 
Hourly joys be still upon you ! 
Juno sings her blessings on you. 

no Cer. Earthes increase, foison plenty. 
Barns and garners never empty, 
Vines with clustering bunches growing, 
Plants with goodly burthen bowing ; 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 277 

Spring come to 3-011 at the farthest 
In the very end of harvest ! 
Scarcity and want shall shun you; 
Ceres' blessing so is on you. 

Fer. This is a most majestic vision, and 
Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold 
[2oTo think these spirits? 

Pros. Spirits, which by mine art 

I have from their confines called to enact 
My present fancies. 

Fer. Let me live here ever : 

So rare a wondered father and a wise 
Makes this place Paradise. 

[Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on 
employinent. 
Pros. Sweet, now, silence! 

Juno and Ceres whisper seriously ; 
There's something else to do : hush, and be mute, 
Or else our spell is marred. 

Iris. You nymphs, called Naiads, of the wind-= 
ring brooks. 
With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks. 
130 Leave your crisp channels and on this green land 
Answer your summons ; Juno does command : 
Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate 
A contract of true love ; be not too late. 

Enter certain Nymphs 

You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary, 
Come hither from the furrow and be merry : 



278 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

Make holiday ; your rye-straw hats put on 
And these fresh nymphs encounter every one 
In country footing. 

Enter certain Reapers, properly habited : they join 
with the Nymphs i7i a graceful dance ; totvards 
the end whereof Prospero staj^ts suddenly and 
speaks; after ivhich^ to a strange^ hollow^ and 
confused noise, they heavily vanish 
Pros. \_Aside'] I had forgot that foul conspiracy 
140 Of the beast Caliban and his confederates 
Against my life : the minute of their plot 
Is almost come. ^To the Spirits] Well done ! 
avoid ; no more ! 
Fer. This is strange : your father's in some 
passion 
That works him strongly. 

Mir. Never till this day 

Saw I him touched with anger so distempered. 
Pros. You do look, my son, in a moved sort, 
As if you were dismayed : be cheerful, sir. 
Our revels now are ended. These our actors. 
As I foretold you, were all spirits and 
150 Are melted into air, into thin air : 

And, like the baseless fabric of this vision. 
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces^ 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself. 
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve 
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff 
As dreams are made on, and our little life 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 279 

Is roiinclecl with a sleep. Sir, I am vexed ; 

Bear with my Aveakness ; my okl brain is troubled: 

i6o Be not disturbed with my infirmity : 

If you be pleased, retire into my cell 

And there repose : a turn or two I'll walk, 

To still my beating mind. 

Fer. } 

^j. > We wish your peace. [^Exeunt. 

Pros. Come with a thought. I thank thee, 
Ariel : come. 

Enter Ariel 

Ari. Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy 

pleasure ? 
Pros. Spirit, 

We must prepare to meet with Caliban. 

Ari. Aye, my commander : when I presented 
Ceres, 
I thought to have told thee of it, but I feared 
Lest I might anger thee. 
t;o Pros. Say again, where didst thou leave these 
varlets ? 
Ari. I told you, sir, they were red-hot with 
drinking ; 
So full of valor that they smote the air 
For breathing in their faces ; beat the ground 
For kissing of their feet ; yet always bending 
Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor. 
At which, like unbacked colts, they pricked their 
ears, 



280 UAWTIIOBNE CLASSICS [Act IV 

Advanced tlieir eyelids, lifted up their noses 
As they smelt music : so I charmed their ears 
That calf-like they my lowing followed through 

i8o Toothed briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and 
thorns, 
Which entered their frail shins : at last I left them 
I' the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell. 
There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake 
O'erstunk their feet. 

Pros. This was well done, my bird. 

Thy shape invisible retain thou still : 
The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither. 
For stale to catch these thieves. 

Ari. I go, I go. \_Exit. 

Pros. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature 
Nurture can never stick ; on whom my pains, 

T90 Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost ; 
And as with age his body uglier grows. 
So his mind cankers. I will plague them all. 
Even to roaring. 

Re-enter Ariel, loaded ivith glistering ai^parel^ etc. 
Come, hang them on tliis line. 

Prospero and Ariel remain, invisible. Enter 
Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet 

Cal. Pray you, tread softly, that the l)lind mole 
may not 
Hear a foot fall : we now are near his cell. 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 281 

Ste. Monster, your fairy, which you say is a 

harmless fairy, has clone little better than played 

the Jack with us. Do you hear, monster ? If I 

should take a displeasure against you, look you, — 

200 Trin. Thou wert but a lost monster. 

Cal. Good my lord, give me thy favor still. 
Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to 
Shall hoodwink this mischance : therefore speak 

softly. 
AlFs hushed as midnight yet. 

Trin. Aye, but to lose our bottles in the pool, — 

aS'^^. There is not only disgrace and dishonor in 
that, monster, but an infinite loss. 

Trin. That's more to me than my wetting : yet 
this is your iiarmless fairy, monster. 
210 Ste. I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er 
ears for my labor. 

Cal. Prithee, my king, be quiet. See'st thou 
here. 
This is the mouth o' the cell : no noise, and enter. 
Do that good mischief which may make this island 
Thine own forever, and I, thy Caliban, 
For aye thy foot-licker. 

Ste. Give me thy hand. I do begin to have 
bloody thoughts. 

Trin. O king Stephano ! O peer ! O worthy 
220 Stephano ! look what a wardrobe here is for thee ! 

Cal. Let it alone, thou fool ; it is but trash. ^ 

1 Caliban is the only oue who has sense to see that these glitter- 
ing things are worthless, and only distract from the main aim. 



282 TIAWTIIORNE CLASSICS [Act IV, Sc. 

Trin. O, ho, monster ! we know what belong 
to a frippery. O king Stephano ! 

Ste. Put off that gown, Trinculo ; by this hand 
I'll have that gown. 

Trin. Thy grace shall have it. 

Cal. The dropsy drown this fool ! what do you 
mean 
To dote thus on such luggage? Let's alone 
And do the murder first : if he awake, 
230 From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches. 
Make us strange stuff. 

Ste. Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is 
not this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the 
line : now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair 
and prove a bald jerkin. 

Trin. Do, do: we steal by line and level, an't 
like your grace. 

Ste. I thank thee for that jest ; here's a gar- 
ment for 't : wit shall not go unrewarded while I 
240 am king of this country. " Steal by line and level " 
is an excellent pass of pate ; there's another gar- 
ment for't. 

Trin. Monster, come, put some lime upon your 
fingers, and away with the rest. 

Cal. I will have none on 't : we shall lose our time. 
And all be turned to barnacles, or to apes 
With foreheads villainous low. 

Ste. Monster, lay-to your fingers : help to bear 
this away where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll 
250 turn you out of my kingdom : go to, carry this. 



Act Y, Sc. I] THE TEMPEST 283 

Trin. And this. 
Ste. Aye, and this. 

A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in 
shape of dogs and hounds., and hunt them about., 
Prospero and Ariel setting them on 
Pros. Hey, Mountain, hey ! 
Ari. Silver ! there it goes. Silver ! 
Pros. Fury, Fury ! there. Tyrant, there ! hark ! 
hark! [Cal., Ste., and Trin. are driven out. 
Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints 
With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews 
With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make 

them 
Than pard or cat o' mountain. 

Ari. Hark, they roar ! 

260 Pros. Let them be hunted soundly. At this 
hour 
Lie at my mercy all mine enemies : 
Shortly shall all my labors end, and thou 
Shalt have the air at freedom .- for a little 
Follow, and do me service. \Exeunt. 

ACT V 

Scene I. Before Prospero's cell 
Enter Prospero in his magic rohes^ and Ariel 

Pros. Now does my project gather to a head : 
Isly charms crack not ; my spirits obey ; and time 
Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day? 



284 ITAWTEORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

Ari. On the sixth hour ; at which time, iiiy lord,^ 
You said our work should cease. 

Pros. I did say so, 

When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit, 
How fares the king and 's followers ? 

Ari. Confined together 

In the same fashion as you gave in charge. 
Just as you left them ; all prisoners, sir, 
lo In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell ; 
They cannot budge till your release. The king. 
His brother and yours, abide all three distracted 
And the remainder mourning over them, 
Brimful of sorrow and dismay ; but chiefly 
Him that you termed, sir, " The good old lord, 

Gonzalo " ; 
His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops 
From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly 

works 'em 
That if you now beheld them, your affections 
Would become tender. 

Pros. Dost thou think so, spirit ? 

20 Ari. Mine would, sir, were I human. 

Pros. And mine shall. 

Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling 
Of their afflictions, and shall not myself. 
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply. 
Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art ? 
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the 
quick, 

1 It is late in the afternoon of the same day. 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 285 

Yet with ray nobler reason 'gainst ray fury 

Do I take part : the rarer action is 

In virtue than in vengeance : they being penitent, 

The sole drift of my purpose doth extend 

30 Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel : 
My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, 
And they shall be themselves. 

Ari. I'll fetch them, sir. 

[^Exit. 
Pros. Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes 
and groves,^ 
And ye that on the sands with printless foot 
Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him 
When he comes back ; you demi-puppets that 
By moonsliine do the green sour ringlets make, 
Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime 
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice 

40 To hear the solemn curfew ; by whose aid, 
Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimmed 
The noontide sun, called forth the mutinous winds, 
And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault 
Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder 
Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak 
With his own bolt ; the strong-based promontory 
Have I made shake and by the spurs plucked up 
The pine and cedar : graves at my command 
Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forth 

50 By my so potent art. But this rough magic 

1 This passage should be compared with the fairy poetry of A 
Midsummer- NighV s Dream: that is fanciful, this is imagiuative. 



286 ITAWTnORNE CLASSICS [Act Y 

I here abjure, and, when 1 have required 

Some heavenly music, which even now I do, 

To work mine end upon their senses that 

This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, 

Bury it certain fathoms in the earth. 

And deeper tlian did ever plummet sound 

I'll drown my book. [^Solemn music. 

Re-enter Ariel before : then Alonso, with a frantic 
gesture^ attended by Gonzalo : Sebastian 
and Antonio in like 7nanner^ attended by 
Adrian and Francisco : they all enter the 
circle which Prospero had made^ and there 
stand charmed; which Prospero observing., 



A solemn air and the best comforter 
To an unsettled fancy cure thy brains, 

60 Now useless, boiled within thy skull ! There stand. 
For you are spell-stopped. 
Holy Gonzalo, honorable man. 
Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine. 
Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace. 
And as the morning steals upon the night. 
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses 
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle 
Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo, 
My true preserver, and a royal sir 

70 To him thou follow'st I I will pay thy graces 
Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly 
Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter : 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 287 

Thy brother Avas a furtherer in the act. 

Thou art pinched for't now, Sebastian. Flesh and 

blood, 
You, brother mine, that entertained ambition, 
Expelled remorse and nature ; who, with Sebastian, 
Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong. 
Would here have killed your king ; I do forgive 

thee, 
Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding 
80 Begins to swell, and the approaching tide 
Will shortly fill the reasonable shore 
That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them 
That yet looks on me, or would know me : Ariel, 
Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell : 
I will disease me, and myself present 
As I was sometime Milan -A quickly, spirit ; 
Thou shalt ere long be free. 

A KIEL sings and helps to attire Mm 

Where the bee sucks, there suck 1 : 
In a cowslip's bell 1 lie , 
90 There I couch when owls do cry. 

On the bat's back I do fly 
After summer merrily. 
Merrily, merrily shall I live now 
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. 
Pros. Why, that's my dainty Ariel ! I shall 
miss thee ; 
But yet thou shalt have freedom : so, so, so. 

1 ouce the Duke of Milau. 



288 UAWTIIORNE CLASSICS [AcxV 

To the king's ship, invisible as thou art : 
There shalt thou find the mariners asleep 
Under the hatches ; the master and the boatswain 
loo Being awake, enforce them to this place. 
And presently, I prithee. 

Ari. I drink the air before me, and return 
Or ere your pulse twice beat. \_Uxit. 

Gon. All torment, trouble, Avonder and amaze- 
ment 
Inhabits here : some heavenly power guide us 
Out of this fearful country ! 

Pros. Behold, sir king. 

The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero : 
For more assurance that a living prince 
Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body ; 
no And to thee and thy company I bid 
A hearty welcome. 

Alon. Whether thou be'st he or no. 

Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me. 
As late I have been, I not know : thy pulse 
Beats as of flesh and blood ; and, since I saw thee. 
The affliction of my mind amends, with which, 
I fear, a madness held me : this must crave, 
An if this be at all, a most strange story. 
Thy dukedom I resign and do entreat 
Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should 
Prospero 
120 Be living and be here ? 

Pros. First, noble friend, 

Let me embrace thine age, whose honor cannot 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 289 

Be measured or confined. 

G-071. Whether this be 

Or be not, I'll not swear. 

Pros. You do yet taste 

Some subtilties o' the isle, that will not let you 
Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all ! 
[Aside to Seb. and Ant.] But you, my brace of 

lords, were I so minded, 
I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you 
And justify you traitors : at this time 
I will tell no tales. 

Seh. \_Aside] The devil speaks in him. 

Pros. No. 

130 For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother 
Would even infect my moutli, I do forgive 
Thy rankest fault ; all of them ; and require 
My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know, 
Thou must restore. 

Alon. If thou be'st Prospero, 

Give us particulars of thy preservation ; 
How thou hast met us here, who three hours since 
Were wrecked upon this shore ; where I have 

lost — 
How sharp the point of this remembrance is ! — 
My dear son Ferdinand. 

Pros. I am woe for't, sir. 

140 Alon. Irreparable is the loss, and patience 
Says it is past her cure. 

Pros. I rather think 

You have not sought her helj), of whose soft grace 



290 HAWTIIOllNE CLASSICS [Act V 

For the like loss 1 have her sovereign aid 
And rest myself content. 

Alon. You the like loss I 

Pros. As great to me as late ; and, supportable 
To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker 
Than you may call to comfort you, for I 
Have lost my daughter. 

Alon. A daughter ? 

O heavens, that the}^ were living both in Naples, 
150 The king and queen there ! that they were, I 

wish 
Myself were mudded in that oozy bed 
Where my son lies. When did you lose your 

daughter ? 
Pros. In this last tempest. I perceive, these 

lords 
At this encounter do so much admire 
That they devour their reason and scarce think 
Their eyes do offices of truth, their words 
Are natural breath : but howsoe'er you have 
Been justled from your senses, know for certain 
That I am Prospero and' that very duke 
i&o Which was thrust forth of Milan, who most 

strangely 
Upon this shore, where you were wrecked, was 

landed. 
To be the lord on't. No more yet of this ; 
For 'tis a chronicle of day by day. 
Not a relation for a breakfast nor 
Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir ; 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 291 

This cell's mj court : here have I few attendants 
And subjects none abroad : pray you, look in. 
My dukedom since you hav^e given me again, 
I will reqaite you with as good a thing ; 
[70 At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye 
As much as me my dukedom. 

Here Prospero discovers Ferdinand ayid Mi- 
randa playing at chess 

Mir. Sweet lord, you play me false. 

Fer. No, my dear'st love, 

I would not for the world. 

Mir. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should 
wrangle. 
And I would call it fair play. 

Alon. If this prove 

A vision of the Island, one dear son 
Shall I twice lose. 

Seh. A most high miracle ! 

Fer. Though the seas threaten, they are merci- 
ful ; 
I have cursed them without cause. \_Kneels. 

Alon. Now all the blessings 

80 Of a glad father conqoass thee about ! 
Arise, and say how thou camest here. 

Mir. O, wonder ! 

How many goodly creatures are there here ! 
How beauteous mankind is ! O brave new world, 
That has such people in 't ! 

Pros. 'Tis new to thee. 



292 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

Alo7i. Wliat is this maid with whom thou Avast 
at play ? 
Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours : 
Is she the goddess that hath severed us^ 
And brought us thus together? 

Fer. Sir, she is mortal ; 

But by immortal Providence she's mine : 
(90 I chose her when I could not ask my father 
For his advice, nor thought I had one. She 
Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan, 
Of whom so often I have heard renown. 
But never saw before ; of whom I have 
Received a second life ; and second father 
This lady makes liim to me. 

Alon. I am hers : 

But, O, how oddly will it sound that I 
Must ask my child forgiveness ! 

Pros. There, sir, stop : 

Let us not burthen our remembrance with 
200 A heaviness that's gone. 

Gron. I have inly wept. 

Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you 

gods. 
And on this couple drop a blessed crown ! 
For it is jon that have chalked forth the way 
Which brought us hither. 

Alon. I say. Amen, Gonzalo ! 

Gron. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his 
issue 
Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 293 

Beyond a common joy, and set it down 
With gold on lasting pillars : In one voyage 
Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis 
2IO And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife 

Where he himself was lost, Prospero his duke- 
dom 
In a poor isle, and all of us ourselves 
When no man was his own. 

Alon. \_To ¥¥.B..and Mir.] Give me your hands : 
Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart 
That doth not wish you joy ! 

Gron. Be it so ! Amen ! 

Re-enter Akiel, with the INIaster and Boatswain 
amazedly following 

O, look, sir, look, sir ! here is more of us : 
I prophesied, if a gallows were on land, 
This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy. 
That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on 
shore ? 
220 Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news? 

Boats. The best news is, that we have safely 
found 
Our king and company ; the next, our ship — 
Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split — 
Is tight and yare and bravely rigged as when 
We first put out to sea. 

Ari. [Aside to Pros.] Sir, all this service 
Have I done since I went. 

Pros. [^Aside to Ari.] My tricksy spirit! 



294 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

Alo7i. These are not natural events; they 
strengthen 
From strange to stranger. Say, how came you 
hither? 
Boats. If I did think, sir, I were well awake, 
=3° rid strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep. 
And — how we know not — all clapped under 

hatches ; 
Where but even now with strange and several 

noises 
Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains, 
And moe diversity of sounds, all horrible, 
We were awaked ; straightway, at liberty ; 
Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld 
Our royal, good and gallant ship, our master 
Capering to eye her : on a trice, so please you, 
Even in a dream, were we divided from them 
240 And were brought moping hither. 

Art. [Aside to Fros.'] Was 't w^ell done? 

Pros. lAside to Ari.] Bravely, my diligence. 

Thou shalt be free. 
Alon. This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod ; 
And there is in this business more than nature 
Was ever conduct of : some oracle 
Must rectify our knowledge. 

Pros. Sir, my liege, 

Do not infest your mind with beating on 
The strangeness of this business ; at picked leisure 
Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you. 
Which to you shall seem probable, of every 



Scene 1] THE TEMPEST 295 

250 These happened accidents ; till when, be cheerful 
And think of each thing well. [^Aside to Ari.] 

Come hither, spirit : 
Set Caliban and his companions free ; 
Untie the spell. [Exit Art.] How fares my 

gracious sir? 
There are yet missing of your company 
Some few odd lads that you remember not. 

Re-enter Artel, driving in Caliban, Stephano, 
and Trinculo, m their stolen apparel 

Ste. Every man shift for all the rest, and let 
no man take care for himself ; for all is but for- 
tune. Coragio, bully-monster, coragio ! 

Trin. If these be true spies which I wear in my 
260 head, here's a goodly sight. 

Cal. O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed ! 
How fine my master is ! I am afraid 
He will chastise me. 

Seh. Ha, ha ! 

What things are these, my lord Antonio ? 
Will money buy 'em ? 

Ant. Very like ; one of them 

Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. 

Pros. Mark but the badges of these men, my 
lords, 
Then say if they be true. This misshapen knave, 
His mother was a witch, and one so strong 
270 That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs. 
And deal in her command without her power. 



296 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 

These three liave I'obbed me ; and this deini-devil — 
For he's a bastard one — had plotted with them 
To take my life. Two of these fellows you 
Must know and own ; this thing of darkness I 
Acknowledge mine. 

Cal. I shall be pinched to death. 

Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler? 

/Seb. He is drunk now : where had he wine? 

Alon. And Trinculo is reeling ripe : where 
should they 
280 Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em? 
How earnest thou in this pickle ? 

Trin. I have been in such a pickle since I saw 
you last that, I fear me, will never out of my 
bones : I shall not fear fly-blowing. 

Seb. Why, how now, Stephano ! 

Ste. O, touch me not ; I am not Stephano, but 
a cramp. 

Pros. You'ld be king o' the isle, sirrah? 

Ste. I should have been a sore one then. 

Alon. This is a strange thing as e'er I looked on. 

IFointing to Caliban. 
290 Pros. He is as disproportioned in his manners 
As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell ; 
Take with you 3' our companions; as you look 
To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. 

Cal. Aye, that I will ; and I'll be wise hereafter 
And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass 
Was I, to take this drunkard for a god 
And worship this dull fool ! 



Scene I] THE TEMPEST 297 

Pros. Go to ; away ! 

Alon. Hence, and bestow your luggage where 

you found it. 
Seh. Or stole it, rather. 

l^Exeimt Cal., Ste., and Tein. 
300 Pros. Sir, I invite your highness and your train 
To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest 
For this one night ; which, part of it, I'll waste 
With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it 
Go quick away ; the story of my life 
And the ^^articular accidents gone by 
Since I came to this isle : and in tlie morn 
I'll bring you to your ship and so to Naples, 
Where I have hope to see the nuptial 
Of these our dear-beloved solemnized ; 
310 And thence retire me to my Milan, where 
Every third thought shall be my grave. 

Alon. I long 

To hear the story of your life, which must 
Take the ear strangely. 

Pros. I'll deliver all ; 

And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales 
And sail so expeditious that shall catch 
Your royal fleet far off. [Aside to Ari.] My Ariel 

chick, 
That is thy charge : then to the elements 
Be free, and fare thou well ! Please you, draw 
near. \_Uxeunt. 



298 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Epilogue 

EPILOGUE 

SPOKEN BY PltOSPERO 

Now my charius are all o'erthrown, 
And what strength I have's mine own, 
Which is most faint : now, 'tis true, 
I must here be confined by you. 
Or sent to Naples. Let me not. 
Since I have my dukedom got 
And pardoned the deceiver, dwell 
In this bare island by your spell ; 
But release me from my bands 
With the help of your good hands : 
Gentle breath of yours my sails 
Must fill, or else my project fails. 
Which was to please. Now I want 
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant, 
And my ending is despair. 
Unless I be relieved by pra3^er. 
Which pierces so that it assaults 
Mercy itself and frees all faults. 
As you from crimes would pardoned be. 
Let your indulgence set me free. 



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